


All the Gods in Heavens

by YPFhelp



Category: Hisoka - Fandom, Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aftercare, Aura - Freeform, Blood, Blood Play, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Bungee Cum, Card play, Chaotic Good, Choking, Dark fic, Dom/sub, Dominant Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Drowning, Dubious Consent, Edging, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Fighting, Floor Sex, Forced Orgasm, Fuck Or Die, Fuckbuddies, Fucking, Gross, Hisoka's Bungee Gum Nen Ability (Hunter X Hunter), Hisoka/you - Freeform, Horny Hisoka, Inappropriate Use Of Nen, Mildly Dubious Content, Murder, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain Kink, Plot With Porn, Porn With Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Skull Fucking, Some Fluff, Sorry Not Sorry, Top Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, adding tags as I go, big tall pink man, blood on carpet, don't sleep in bathtubs, everywhere sex, except feminism, he just loves blood, heed the creators warnings, hisoka - Freeform, hisoka can step on my neck and id thank him, hisoka is dom/sub, hisoka is not a vampire, hisoka wearing your fuzzy pink slippers, long fic, not rapey, nothing healthy here, ready 2 have my spine put thru my shoulders, sorry in advance, steponme, thankyou, you are dom/sub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25671427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YPFhelp/pseuds/YPFhelp
Summary: Descend with me to the depths of hell where I dream about Hisoka putting my spine through my shoulder blades.Honestly yes I have a sick taste in men. But like, you’re here too right?I wrote this bc none of the fics I’ve read so far are sick enough for me.None of this is owned by me & its not entirely accurate. Ive done my research but if you’re a stickler about accuracy please take a number and get in line to suck my butt.Also its my first fanfic I’ve ever written so be gentle. My safe word is “sandalwood”.Warnings:This is gross.Judge me if you must, I’m in therapy already.Lots of dark shit.I am trash.Blood-play.Violence.Yes I love it.Edging.Choking.Inappropriate uses of nen and aura.Porn with plot, plot with porn.This is not a love story, if you’re coming for that pls see the door out.Minimal fluff planned, we shall see how things progress.This is 18+ material. If you’re under 18 and reading this, I’m so sorry.If you’re down for all of this, proceed.
Relationships: Hisoka/ Y/N, Hisoka/Reader, Hisoka/You, Y/N - Relationship
Comments: 238
Kudos: 275





	1. Thou Shalt Heed the Creators Warnings

You had planned for this, waited for it, predicted this outcome. Your fight on the 190th floor left you drained-This you had expected and you had slept for 5 days post match. You had killed him; your last opponent, and all you can see when you close your eyes is the look of shock on his face when he realized he had underestimated you. Something about men suffering gave you ultimate satisfaction, you knew your past had plenty to do with this. You lived to fuck their whole life up... it truly was their fault that they’d subject themselves to your rage. It was all you had now, you moved with divinity and anger contained. Anger that reached from your heart to your fingertips and threatened to burst out at all times. You were a walking bomb, but you keep it concealed and barely contained until battle.

The rage you let out shakes the ceilings, threatening to bring down the heavens and the gods that lived within them. This you saw fitting as you thrived in heavens arena.

You looked weak enough as you were a 23 year old girl, average height with facial features so delicate, fine and deceiving, you were sometimes mistaken for 18. They thought you were young and inexperienced, an innocent little girl who challenged them in their territory. You had been training for this in the mountains with the masters who had refined your craft since you were 16. The masters taught you to conceal, to turn the rage in your step into an illusion of elegance and grace, among other things. At 16 you left home and never went back, this memory brought a bitter taste to your mouth. You missed home and your mother but you refused to return until you obtained a hunters license... and there was still work to be done before the test.

You had vowed to bring any man who threatened your life to their knees, and it was all too easy to watch the life drain from their bodies, you reveled in their pain. Thus you sought out a worthy opponent to match your strength, a challenger or an adversary. So far everything had been too easy.

On the first 50 floors you had been fine after every match, they'd barely drained you. The further up the tower you climbed, the more aura you used, and after the 100th floor you would pass out after almost every match. No one knew this of course, you contained your exhaustion to the four walls of your room. You healed too quickly for a normal human, but it still requires many days of sleep post match.

There weren’t many other girls in your line of work and friends were few and far between. You preferred it this way, fewer distractions meant more time for you to become more of what you were meant to be. You sought power and nothing else. Your facade was indestructible and so was your resolve.

After 5 days of sleep, you packed your things and headed to the elevator to take your rightful place on the 200th floor, so close to dethroning the floor masters above you. You conceal your aura as you step into the elevator to take you to the floor above, anticipating a hazing from your future neighbors. The ride up was short but it felt like fucking eons and you’re nervous for once, the anticipation making you shiver. You know many high ranking fighters lived on the 200th floor and you could feel their nen, even in the elevator. As the elevator came to a stop and let out a pleasant dinging to let you know you’d arrived, the doors slide open and you step outside. The candle lit corridors are different from the well lit hallways of the previous floors. Here, the carpets and walls are a deep crimson, lined tastefully with mahogany wood and gold accents. Even the crushed velvet covered couches and chairs screamed that this bunch of resident assholes were well taken care of. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed two men leering at you from the hallway to your left.

“Hey little girly, wanna go for a ride?” A short man with no eyes called out to you, gesturing at his crotch, the other man grinned widely.

“Get fucked, both of you. “ You had no intention of partaking.

“That’s NO way to speak to your superiors!!!” The man with no eyes was raging, his nen activated. He started to charge at you, but a voice purred out from the shadows of the cushy chairs,

“Now that’s no way to speak to a lady, is it?”

Whoever was in the chair sent the eyeless man flying into the back wall, cracking the wood behind him with the impact, blood started to drip down the wall behind the man now embedded in the wood.

You sigh, unimpressed.

Men. It’s constantly a cock fight. You were used to it and you paid it no mind. You start down the hallway in front of you, treading lightly on the thick carpets as you come to a stop at the end in front of the registration window.

You’re greeted with the cheerful face of a small woman, purple eyes and purple hair. She assigns you your room and informs you of the rules of this floor. She continues chattering excitedly at you, but you’re no longer listening, something behind you is catching your attention. You’re on high alert now, barely containing your nen waiting for an attack from behind. You could feel the presence from behind you, their aura seemed to be so thick and powerful you felt it in your bones. You can smell the power crackling in the air.

The same voice from the shadows spoke low in your ear,

“I hope to be seeing more of you.”

You shiver visibly, and the purple girl in the window finally stops speaking. “Did you get all of that?” She smiles at you expectedly. “Yes of course. Thank youfor your help.” You grab your room key and turn to see the face of the owner of the richly smooth voice in your ear but you’re greeted with an empty hallway and no one around. You can’t seem to shake the feeling you’re being watched. Looking down at your room key, number 38, you set off to find your new quarters. After a short walk down a sprawling hallway identical to the one by the elevator, you arrive and unlock your door.

You push open the door, noticing the wood was so thick it was probably sound proof. Perfect. The room that met your eyes looked like your room back home. More thick carpets, a huge bed with thick pillows and a fluffy comforter, mahogany tables, and a crimson velvet couch. You could care less about how this room was, for some reason bathrooms were your favorite rooms. You like dark tiles and floor to ceiling glass showers with rainfall shower heads, wide mirrors, claw footed bathtubs, candles and low lighting. You try your best to rid yourself of attachments as best you can, but luxurious bathrooms are your guilty pleasure.

After the creator doesn't shut up about loving bathrooms, you head to the bathroom. This one met your expectations and beyond. The bathtub was built into the ground and the black tiles that shimmered surrounding it were the same tiles on the floor. There were candles everywhere, and a large ornate gold mirror. The shower was MASSIVE, 3 shower heads and enough room for at least 4 people.

“What kind of people fuck in here?” You think out loud. You turn and stare at yourself in the mirror, and take your thick hair out of the ponytail barely containing it. The bags under your eyes look blacker than ever and the bruising on your body looks greener, and maybe it’s the lighting but you doubt it.

You decide a bath is the best route for the time being. Finding little bottles of bath oils, you pick the one that reads “orange and sandalwood” and dump it in the tub. You turn on the faucets and strip down as the tub fills with water and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You stare at your reflection again, barely recognizing your own body littered with scars and bruises. You loved the scars, they were proof of your progress. You didn’t love the bruises and the soreness in your body that accompanied them. From your wrists to your shoulders were long thin lines tattooed into your olive skin, reaching behind your shoulders connecting between your shoulder blades at both sides, tracing down your spine to end at the small of your back. They were a tradition of your people, the women in your culture were tattooed with nen infused ink once they’d gotten their first cycle, it was a celebration of the divine feminine and a tribute the gods. God was a woman, like you. Like all women.

Your body is the result of the years of training, hard and toned. You probably shouldn’t have, but you had gotten your nipples pierced when you were 18 to offset your semi masculine body, to keep a little reminder of your femininity, just like you kept your nails long and sharpened to a point. You were both power and the divine, and you like to be reminded of it.

You turn away from your reflection and climb the steps into the bathtub, sinking into the hot water. The water immediately soothes the ache in your muscles and you finally release the tension in your body. Letting out a small sigh, sinking deeper, you let the warmth envelop you. Your thoughts drift lazily around your head as you let the tiredness set in. Where was that voice coming from in the hallway? Why was there no face? The memory of the purring voice speaking quietly in your ear hitched your breath and sent shivers deep into your belly. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to fuck or fight them and you decide as you succumb to sleep in the bath that honestly either would be fine.

PSA: DONT sleep in a bathtub you could drown and die.


	2. The Carpet

The creator has tried to warn you of the risks of sleeping in the bath and as you have not heeded her warnings, she has decided to punish you.

Home. Finally home again. The sun beats down on your body, the rays warm your cold bones. Salty warm breezes lightly caress you, you could stay here forever. Rising to your feet on the warm sand, you walk towards the ocean. The clearest blue contrasting the white sands. Reaching the water you wade in, deciding to float on your back under the cloudless blue sky. Closing your eyes, you focus on experiencing the gentle rocking of your body as the waves pass you by. All at once, hands reach up from within the water and begin dragging you down. Thrashing your limbs to attempt to break the surface, your lungs beg for precious life-giving air that never comes. Down you travel into the clear depths and the last thing you see is the light dancing around you on the sea floor.

Coughing and spewing water, you wake from the bath gasping for air. The creator had tried to warn you about the dangers of falling asleep in water, yet you had ignored her warnings. Jumping out of the bathtub, you sit soaking wet on the steps outside it, breathing heavily. How fucking stupid and careless could you be? All the training and death and blood would have been for what? A NAP IN THE BATH? idiot. Grabbing one of the fluffy white towels you attempt to soak up the water from your hair. Hey at least you smelled good, musky with hints of sweet orange from the bath oil. Drying down your body took a bit, the persistent ache in your muscles slowed you down. Pulling on a large t-shirt and sliding on a pair of orange boxers, you move to settle into the expanse of your bed and turn on the tv. The channels here are all live streams of the matches going on, on any of the floors. Scrolling through the channels bored, all of these opponents are old news. You switch to the 200th floor channel, figuring if you’re resting physically you might as well make use of your time by analyzing your current competition.

This match was of a small boy in green attempting to attack his opponent who was so very clearly out of his league. Snickering, you watch for the inevitable defeat. The stronger opponent was tall, muscular and pale with reddish pink hair. That wasn’t the only feature that stood out, a pink star and a blue teardrop graced his cheek under each eye. His movements were fluid like liquid, but he stood solid like ice. You watch his every move intently. Clearly everyone had underestimated the boy, he was inexperienced but his stamina and quickly growing power kept him in the ring. You knew how this would end though and you didn’t care to see it happen, the match would be over within minutes.

The hunger in your belly finally caught your attention, you slide out of bed and step into your fuzzy pink slippers. The thought of food carries you out your door and into the hallway, eventually making it to the elevator. After pushing the button you wait for the lift, keeping your guard up at all times. The only place you seemed to be safe was in your room, and even there it was still risky. The doors open and you step inside, silently thanking the gods it didn’t take any longer. You push the button for the lobby, where all the restaurants were and waited alone in the elevator as it descended more slowly than you would’ve liked. Finally at your destination, you pick a sushi restaurant. After placing your order to-go, you stand waiting for it to be ready. The hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle and once again you can feel yourself being watched.

Quiet whispers began to spread around you as rumors and stories of the girl with unyielding power and bloodlust were traded, and there you were in boxers and pink fuzzy slippers.

Tensions in the air began to rise, which was not unfamiliar to you. The cost of victory is the knowledge that people everywhere hated you and many had tried to kill you. You weren’t well liked, especially on the lower floors. Today, this seemed to grate at your nerves more than usual. If they didn’t want to die they should’ve trained harder, there was no excuse for their weakness. Finally receiving your order, it took everything not to run back to the elevator. Instead you move serenely with almost no sound. Refusing to look back, you could feel many pairs of eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. You aren't scared, just annoyed.

Back in the elevator alone you were finally safe again, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You sagged your shoulders and leaned against the back wall, waiting for your floor again. Being on guard all the time was fucking exhausting, no matter how long you’d been doing it. Back on the 200th floor you slipped through the elevator doors and clutched at your sushi as you carried it back towards your room, making no sound as you walked.

Almost in the home stretch, you turned the corner only to stop dead in your tracks at the sight of a trail of blood leading down your hallway. Moving slowly you followed the blood, making out a limp body propped up against a door in the distance. Whoever the owner was had lost quite a bit of blood. Completely concealing your aura, you lurked in the shadows towards the body. The figure becomes clearer the closer you move and you recognized the unmistakable star and teardrop of the pink haired man you’d just watched on your tv fighting the boy in green. The match may have not have been as clean and easy as you had previously thought.

He was unconscious, breathing raggedly against the door belonging to room 44 across from your number 38. Unlocking your door you darted inside and set the sushi down on a side table, kicking your slippers off. Numerous situations played out in your head as you pace around the room.

  1. He was faking it and was trying to kill you.
  2. He was faking it and trying to learn something about you or steal from you.
  3. He was faking it and this was a hazing.
  4. He was faking it.
  5. He wasn’t faking it and was bleeding out on the other side of your door.



The last thought made you slightly uneasy, you didn’t care about death or the dying. What caught your attention was how powerful he was and how much you’d love to crush his mind body and soul yourself. What use to you was he if he was already dead? Annoying. He couldn’t take care of himself? Reckless. Annoying. Ugh.

Men.

You sigh and blow the hair out from your eyes resolving to save his life for now so you can take it for your own later. Pushing the door open a crack, you peer out and your eyes are met with a slightly larger pool of blood.

It was going to ruin the carpet, he was just lucky the carpet was already red. First you would test if this was a trap or not, you send a small spike of nen to lightly strike him in the jugular. If it hit him and he bled, he was actually dying. If it didn’t, he was using zetsu to conceal his aura to protect himself and he was faking it - which meant you needed to get the fuck out of there. fast. The moment of truth arrived:

The spike made contact and a small trickle of blood flowed from his neck. Fuck. He was going to bleed out.

The carpet would be ruined.

Sighing heavily, you open your door and step out, standing over him.

The carpet squelched under your bare feet. He’d lost more blood than you’d though.

THE CARPET. HAD HE NO RESPECT?

He was so much larger in person, you physically couldn’t lift or carry him. You spread your fingers, your nen enveloping him and he levitates lightly. Turning back into your room, your envelope of nen follows behind you. You weren’t exactly careful about it, and you heard his head crack against the mahogany doorframe. Too bad, it's not like he was conscious and could feel more pain. Levitating him into the bathroom you place him down lightly into the bathtub you’d almost died in hours earlier.

Oh how the turn tables.

If he was going to bleed out, he wasn’t going to ruin your floor too. Also, the bath seemed the only place big enough for him to fit in. Looking at him again, he seemed paler and more fragile than you remembered, his breathing was increasingly more shallow. Sick at the thought of losing a life you didn’t take yourself yet, you set to work.

With one of your sharp nails you shredded his shirt in one swift motion, you figured that’s where most of his bleeding was coming from. Removing his bloody shirt from him, you removed your own shirt and tore it into strips to use as a tourniquet. You left his pants alone, if he was injured there, that was on him, you weren’t the type to grope a dying man. (or were you?)

Where were his shoes? Probably in the hall.

With the rest of his blood.

Rude.

With your now shredded pajama shirt in hand, you size up the dying man.

He looked slightly older than you, but couldn’t be older than 30, and he was beautiful. Very rarely could you describe men as beautiful but this man dying in your bathtub was just that. His face was covered in blood, perfect lips split in half still weeping blood. A jawline so sharp you’re surprised it isn't considered a weapon. His body was turning black and purple from the bruises beginning to set in, but he must have had -20% body fat. This man was shredded to the gods, abs you could wash your clothes on, arms you could imagine snapping your spine ( horny ah ha ha _h o r ny_ ) and strong hands with long fingers and claw nails like yours. His breathing hitched and he let out a small cough, blood beginning to fall from his lips.

Ah yes, there was blood in his lungs. Excellent. More work for you. Identifying the stab wound to his lungs you place both hands on his wound, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. Thank gods he wasn’t awake. This would’ve hurt more than smashing his head on the doorframe.

Closing your eyes you began to flow your nen out from your fingertips into his body, visualizing his internal organs beginning to heal rapidly. His life force began to appear lightly again, that was all well and fine but there was still the small problem of the blood already trapped in his lungs threatening to suffocate him.

Something else must have done this, the kid he was fighting never could’ve caused this much damage.

Lifting your small hands from his chest, you attempt to pry open his mouth with one hand. His head kept sagging to one side, restricting his air flow. ANNOYING.

He did this for what?

You wrap the other hand tightly around his throat and jerk his head up, successfully prying open his jaw. Sticking three fingers into his mouth (h o r n y) you visualized his lungs squeezing themselves (like a ketchup packet), forcing the blood up and out of his mouth. Great. You’re covered in blood now. Excellent.

Almost forgetting to re-inflate his lungs for him, you watch him turn even paler. Oh fuck lol the important part. Once his lungs were re-inflated, you listened for his breathing to return to a slightly normal pace. Gross. You hadn’t healed him to the point where he’d wake up though, you had shredded your shirt to use for a tourniquet and were currently topless and covered in his blood. This was not something you wanted him to wake up to. In other situations the blood and free tiddies would’ve been more than acceptable, but not in this situation.

Annoying.

Turning the tap water for the bath on, you wet a washcloth and began to rub away the dried blood crusted to his face and scalp. As you rubbed the blood from his cheeks, the blue teardrop and pink star came away with it. His hair was matted with blood still but that was on him to fix later. Finally washing the blood from the still oozing wounds on his chest, you rinsed the blood from the cloth and reached for your shirt - now in strips on the ground - and tied them tightly around his torso, compressing his wounds to (probably) stop the bleeding. Leaning back to admire your work, you think this bastard didn’t deserve all that you had just done for him.

Because he had ruined the fucking carpet.

Left hand raised, you brought it to his cheek, slapping the ever living shit out of him for good measure. One of your nails scratched a path on his cheek, drawing a crimson line of blood. It's not like he could stop you and this was your reward for saving his life. God he’d made a fucking mess. The amount of blood in the bathtub, room, and on you. Rude. SO fucking rude.

Ready to wash his blood off your body, you slide your boxers down your hips and kick them away. Turning your back to him you locate the button to turn on the shower water and wait for it to warm. You set out a towel for yourself and fresh pajamas, and a spare towel for him whenever he woke up. That wouldn’t be soon, there’s no need to worry. He was unconscious and you could keep a watchful eye on him from inside the glass shower next to the bathtub. Stepping inside the shower, you zone out staring at the floor. The water becoming crimson as it touches you and washed away his blood, creating a swirling river of red at your feet. Shampoo and conditioner bottles lined the shower wall, along with various scents of body wash. Picking out the orange and sandalwood again, you closed your eyes and massaged the shampoo across your scalp and through your hair. Repeating this same process with conditioner. The last of the blood seemed to stick to you, you lathered your body with the richly scented body wash and scrubbed hard at your arms and chest, washing the blood from your tattooed flesh. Satisfied that you were clean, you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, towel drying your hair.

Naked and looking down at him from above the bath, you wonder if you should’ve let him die. You could still kill him. But all that energy to heal him wasted for what?

He would live another day, by your permission alone.

You needed sleep. Slipping on your fresh boxers and oversized tshirt, you brush through your tangled hair, wash your face and moisturize your skin.

Blood on the skin clogs pores, and you would NOT let him have the satisfaction of giving you a breakout.

Leaving the bathroom you turn off the overhead lights, leaving a few low lights on so you could check on him easily if you needed to. The bathtub couldn’t have been comfortable but honestly who cares, you’d already done more than enough. Padding over to your bed, you slid between the sheets and cocooned yourself in the giant blanket.

Deep sleep came quickly, filled with vivid dreams and nightmares.

The scenario of him waking and killing you in your sleep had slipped your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls feel free to leave questions, comments, concerns, blood, sweat, tears, heart, soul, trials, tribulations, frustrations, and feedback below in the comments. I wish to hear them all.
> 
> ALSO - guess what kind of nen user she is!!!


	3. Big Tall Pink Man

Your neck really fucking hurt, you decided this as you slowly woke. You fell asleep in a huge cozy bed, why did your neck hurt like you’d been sleeping on the ground?

Your eyes flew open, processing the events of last night, settling on the shower wall in front of you. You sleep walked constantly, this was nothing out of the ordinary. Not daring to move, you do your best to assess your surroundings. He was here last night, where is he now? The muscles in your back tensed at the thought, bare skin cold against the tile floor. Bare skin? Clearly you had stripped down and attempted to shower in your sleep. Lovely.

Reality backhanded you hard in the face, without moving you shifted your eyes down at your body - covered from the waist down with a blood soaked towel.

This was not your blood.

Or your towel.

You were not bleeding.

Lying on your side curled into the fetal position, your bare back facing the mirrors and counter, you’re exposed. Might as well have just forked over the weapon used to murder you too. 

Wracking your brain for answers you came up with situations that could be the case.

  1. He could be gone, you are alone, all is well.
  2. ~~Hes still unconscious in the bathtub.~~ Who put the towel over you?
  3. Hes waiting for you to wake up so he can kill you.
  4. You’re already dead????? 



You decide that situation 2 and 4 are out of the question, the most logical scenarios would be 1 and 3, but you had to be prepared for situation 3. This was hard enough as is, you were tired and energy drained, brain still fuzzy with sleep. Not your best look.

Fuck it, of everything you were, you weren’t a pussy. You weren’t backing down from a fight, topless or not. Your aura wasn’t strong enough yet to use, you had used the rest of it last night healing the fucker. You’d have to rely solely on hand to hand combat. This was one of yourspecialties, you loved a good fistfight, but not so much if you’re the only one without nen. Like bringing a fucking knife to a gun fight. Why why why why why did you drain yourself last night. You must have been stupid tired to make a careless mistake like that.

You roll onto your back with your eyes still shut, feigning sleep, playing dead. At least if you’re on your back you have some way to defend yourself. You listened for any noise or movement and you heard it - the slow deep breathing and even heartbeat of someone who is also asleep. This was your chance and you jump at it, you turn your head and your eyes flash wide at the pink haired man sitting on the floor, back supported by the bathroom cabinets, facing you and sleeping quietly.

Wearing the boxers you’d worn to sleep.

And your pink fuzzy slippers, probably 8 sizes too small for him.

If looks could kill you would have murdered him right then and there. Your nen flared to life, and you silently thanked the gods you had some energy at all and that he was still clearly injured.

He noticed.

Tall big pink man lazily opened one heavily lidded eye and gave you a slight smirk.

He should’ve been out for at least another week, but here he was and you were just grateful he hadn’t snapped your neck while you slept. The two of you stayed there observing each other, until you finally broke the silence with a question that quietly left your lips,

“what the _fuck_ are you doing?”

He opened both eyes - with striking gold iris’s- and smirked wider

“Waiting to use the shower, of course”.

That voice.. you knew it. You’d had vivid dreams of it last night. You’d heard it. That voice from the shadows of the lobby, whispering in your ear was this voice. The voice now had a face. And a body ( HoRnYYY).

Now you were normally a quiet and reserved person, so it was no surprise you couldn’t find the words to say, you just stared.

“If you don’t mind, I do have some questions for you” his smooth voice calling out, drawing you in, “Now how exactly did I get here?”

This, you could answer. Finding your strength again you push yourself up to sit facing him. Answers began to flow out of you, you explained how you’d found him dying in the hallway, taken him here, healed him and left him to sleep. None of the things you said seemed to phase him, his face was impassive the entire time he listened.

“Now I have a question for you” you continued, “do you know how I got here?”

“Yes actually, you rudely woke me with your stumbling about. You’re rather a clumsy sleep walker aren’t you?” he laughed at you quietly and your cheeks turned pink.

“You didn't.. do anything did you?”

“Oh no, I prefer my companions awake.”

His words sent shivers deep into your belly, though your face remained composed. Pushing yourself up, you stepped out of the shower leaving the blood soaked towel behind. Excellent. You might as well have just stayed in the shower with the amount of blood still staining your skin. But, you had company and you were naked. Though it didn’t seem to bother either of you as you passed him, walking out of the bathroom in search of your third fresh pair of pajamas in 24 hours. Settling on another pair of boxers (pink this time) and a thin white tank top. You pulled them on and walk back into the bathroom and begin brushing your teeth, ignoring the man on the floor beside you. Feeling his eyes still on you, you focus on averting your gaze.

“I'm Hisoka, and to whom do I owe this pleasure?” the words spilled out of him smooth like honey, not a single syllable rushed.

Hisoka. One of the gods that had descended to walk among the living. A face to the voice, and now a face to the legends you had heard. Honestly, you should be terrified, but as it were at the moment, you have the high ground.

Standing silently for a few seconds, you spat out the minty foam in your mouth, rinsing, taking your time to answer. You pull your wild length of hair into a messy bun and turn to connect your gaze with his again. You speak your name into existence, he seems pleased with your answer and intrigued by your quiet company.

“Well I should thank you for your kindness, but I may require your assistance again soon.”

This you had no problem with, and you told him so.

If you were helping him he’d have no reason to try and kill you right? You hope. Secretly, you want to study him further.

“Excellent. I shall think of a way to repay you.”

To this, you nodded in reply.

Hisoka moved for the first time, attempting to stand. Only you knew the true amount of blood he had lost, and there was no way he was going to make it all the way up. To your surprise he manages to pull himself using the edge of the bathroom counter, but he sways and you reach out to steady him.

Once again he quickly looks pale and drained. Draping his arm around your shoulder and wrapping yours around his waist to support him, you lead him out the bathroom and guide him to the thick velvet couch next to your bed. Helping him down and avoiding the bruising, you push gently on his chest until he’s lying horizontally on the couch. He was weaker than he thought. Arrogant. This pleases you immensely.

Closing your eyes, you rest your fingertips on his chest again, sending light pulses of energy into him. You feel his eyes on you as you work, and soon you hear his breathing deepen. He fell asleep again, lucky fucker. You pried your pink fuzzy slippers off his feet and toss them in a laundry bag to deal with later.

Jumping onto your bed you settle in, taking in the descended god asleep on your couch. You had saved his life, did this classify you as an angel?

Then again, you saved his life to dethrone the old gods and take their place in time.

You decide you’re nothing of the angel sort, the title of a demon would be more fitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short-ish chapter. not sorry.  
> The next one is just straight porn. Wait on it bbys.


	4. Sushi & Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the great Michael Scott once said:
> 
> "Okay its happening, everybody stay calm. Everybody stay calm! STAY FUCKING CALM!"
> 
> side note- im a sick fuck, and i apologize in advance.

Your aura was still exhausted but you refuse to sit in this room and stare at him. Hisoka could survive without you, you decide. Trading your boxers for sweatpants, you slide on running shoes and slip out the door to go find a training room to work on your hand to hand combat.

This cycle goes on for days, and your aura is finally back at full strength. You leave early in the morning and train for long hours daily. Each evening you return to your room with sushi, finding the old god still there occupying space in your room and your mind. You don’t mind it though, he doesn’t ask anything of you, nor you of him. You didn’t speak much, you both didn’t need to. But you wonder what life would be like if he knew you’d backhanded him and rocked his skull on your doorframe. He continued to borrow your boxers and you hate that. He was still badly injured and it would still take a while for him to recover so you continue to let him stay. Also, the sight of him shirtless never got old. (Noice).

Tonight you arrived home, you had learned that as self sufficient as the old god was, he was still an injured man child who needed some sort of help. Your peace offerings took the form of nightly sushi runs for him, eventually you picked up sushi for the both of you on the way back from training.

You set the food down on the table, old god was nowhere to be seen. You strip off your clothes coated in the grime that builds up from fighting and training all day, and walk into the bathroom to grab a shower. Upon entering the bathroom you find Hisoka sitting on the shower floor as the water from one of the three shower heads streams down over him.

Wordlessly you slip into the opposite end of the shower, standing under one of the other shower heads, your back to him. You’d think this would be uncomfortable, but you were just as comfortable naked as you were with clothes. Your clothes were for the courtesy of others honestly. You liked him better naked as well, it suited him better than clothes ever did. Washing away the dirt sweat and tears from your body, you continue to shower in silence. Peering down, you admire the new collection of bruises forming on your right arm and shoulder. Lost in your own thoughts of the collections of events of today, you’re startled into reality by a finger tracing the line of tattoos down your spine and it occurs to you that you’re living peacefully with someone who could easily end your life if he ever felt so inclined.

You turn to wash the shampoo out your hair, finding him kneeling in front of you studying the lines of tattoos from your wrists to your spine. The lines were nen infused, holding a special last resort storage of nen. They were a lifeline. Hisoka knew this, you assumed. He began to trace the lines on both of your wrists, you watch him intently. Quickly encircling your small wrists in his grip he yanks you forward, his face colliding with your torso, he looks up at you and gives you a sly smile.

When was the last time a god gave someone else the higher ground? It dawned on you, as much as you’d love to kill him, you wanted to play with fire. You hadn’t touched him in days, save for the few times he needed a few accelerated healing bursts. You’d never thought of yourself as a healer, but a destroyer. The duality of man, you begin to take and give.

Once again glazed over in these thoughts, you’re brought back down to the sensation of large hands wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you towards him. His teeth collide with your right hip and the old god bites down on your flesh hard, drawing blood. Caught off guard you yelp in pain but as quickly as you were off guard, you regain composure. Threading your fingers through his hair you yank his head back to look at you, his gold eyes catch yours and he opens his mouth to allow a few drops of the blood he’d stolen from your body slide off his lips. You catch his jaw in your other hand, slipping a finger between his teeth to run across his tongue, collecting more of your blood. Dragging your finger out of his mouth, you run your thumb slowly across his bottom lip. You refuse to break eye contact with the old god kneeling before you as you raise your finger from his lips to yours, you taste blood. Blood mixed with gods. At this, his nails dig into the skin at the small of your back, you twitch at the little pricks of pain. Hes enjoying this, you can feel it in the air around you as aura mixes with aura. Whats worse, you’re enjoying this too.

Letting your grip on his hair slip just a bit, he brings his teeth back to your hips, waist, stomach and ribcage, little nips of pain surge through your body, edging you closer to him. You are no stranger to pain. You both knew the fine line between pain and pleasure well, you had the same tastes you’d come to find out. Hisoka removed his teeth from your skin and you watch as he traces his bite marks with his tongue, collecting blood, admiring his work. His tongue traces patterns lower, you shudder against his lips, tinged red with your blood. Your knees give out and you sink onto his lap, kneeling on him as you press your thumb against his lips, onto his tongue, holding his mouth open waiting, desire bubbling in your chest.

Just like this, you give up your higher ground.

You crash your lips into his, his tongue slips between your teeth, exploring unfamiliar new territories while each fighting for dominance. Its deep and dark and suffocating but gods you would give up air altogether to keep feeling this. You’ve tuned out the water falling from above completely, your hands around his neck, his arms wrapped crushingly tight around your waist. He breaks from your lips to bite at your ear, down your neck, passing soft lips over your collarbone. Old god drags his teeth down your chest, lightly licking at the metal bar pierced through your nipple. Pressing your face into his hair you sigh, digging your fingernails into the back of his neck.

Leaning back, he wraps a hand around your throat, restricting your air supply and covers your lips with his own, forcefully this time. You grind your hips into his and a moan escapes you into his mouth, feeling him grin against your lips. Your mind begins to swim, the lack of oxygen finally having an effect on your brain. You assume he can sense this as he releases his grip on your throat. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you feel him allowing you time to catch your breath again.

But you have other plans, pressing your lips to his neck you suck gently, moving from his shoulder to his jawline, you bite down until you taste blood. Hisokas breathing quickens, and he grinds his hips into yours. Collecting his blood in your mouth you go to return the favor, catching his lips with a kiss, trading his blood between your lips.

The hand returns to your throat, holding you just far enough away from his lips that he can watch you fight for air for just a little too long. You’re gasping for breath, mouth open, grinding against the long length of his cock.

“What a good girl you are” he purrs out. “Good girls get exactly what they deserve dont they?”

You supposed this was a rhetorical question as you were in absolutely no position to answer, you squeak out a high pitched moan in response.

“That’s what I thought”.

He dips two fingers into your mouth, then into his, sucking your spit off his fingers, replacing it with his own. You feel his fingers tracing lower down your body, between your legs lightly grazing your clit. You gasp a ragged breath out from his hold on your throat, the sensation rippling through your stomach.

Want. You want this so fucking badly.

He traces slow gentle circles on your clit and you writhe under his touch. Meeting his gaze again, his gold eyes playful and inquisitive as he speeds up the pace of the circles on your clit. Your pussy clenches and you can barely maintain eye contact, your eyes threatening to roll back. Just as quickly as the circles started, they stop and you sigh at him. Annoying.

Hisoka moves the finger from your clit tracing down towards your cunt, feeling the slick wetness from between your legs gather on his fingers. Satisfied with this result, you feel him tease your opening with a single long finger, you try to grind into his hand.

Snaking his other hand through your hair he wrenches your head back and sinks his teeth into your exposed neck at the same time he forces a finger into your cunt. Pleasure and pain, gods what a creation.

His thumb circles your clit, drawing a low moan from your lips. You feel pressure building inside your lower body, you’re no longer in control.

You reach down behind you, taking his long hardened length in one hand. You begin to stroke him at a pace so slow you knew it’d be torture for him.

Two could play at this game.

His eyes roll back and breathing becomes shallow like yours. The finger moving inside you comes to a halt, his attention focuses on the motions of your hand on his cock. Lifting your hips up and off his finger, you lift it to your lips and suck your wetness off. Unable to move with your hand still stroking his cock, he watches you through heavy lids.

Your knees were definitely going to be bruised from the shower floor tile tomorrow. No Ragrets.

You angle your hips forward over him, lightly rubbing the tip of his cock against your warm slit.

You once again had the higher ground.

Old god bucked his hips up, unable to control himself, and long arms wrapped around you again.

Angling yourself over him you began to sink down onto him, the head of his cock slowly splitting you wide. Clenching your jaw in pain, you fight through it. You feel stretched and full and you take as much of it as you can, finally coming to a stop at the hilt.

You stop for a few moments to give your body time to adjust to the thick length buried deep inside you. Legs wrapped around him, catching his lips with yours, you pulse your pussy around his cock and he shudders.

Setting the pace, you ride him slow. Feeling every ridge and vein drag slowly inside you. This wasn’t enough, you pick up the pace, bouncing on him with more force. His nails dig deep into your back, shredding the skin and you cry out as your pussy clenches down tighter onto him. He begins to thrust up into you, you do all you can to match his pace.

You can feel old god becoming frustrated and before you can react, he’s standing with you wrapped around him, hard length deep inside you. Slamming your back into the shower wall, he holds you there and thrusts into you, deeper and harder than you can take. Your legs shake, all you can do is clutch onto him as he splits you open over and over.

Finally settling into this rhythm, heat begins to pool in the deepest part of your belly, pressure building clouds your vision. You whimper, desperate for any attention to your swollen clit.

“So needy” he breathes at your ear

“Don’t worry, we’re not done just yet.”

He pulls his cock out of your dripping cunt and places you standing on the floor, your legs still shaking and threatening to buckle at the knees. Spinning you around, he presses your face against the cold shower wall. Arching your back and lifting your hips up to meet his, old god enters you slowly, giving you more time to find your bearings. Thrusting into you at a gentle pace, you push your hips back to meet him, but he holds your hips still and continues his torturously slow pace. A hand connected hard with your ass cheek, pain radiating out from the place of impact. You gasp from the impact and immediately your cunt clenches down on him.

“If id known how tight you are, I would’ve done this days ago” the warm voice vibrated in your ear, penetrating your brain, clearing your thoughts, swimming in the honey of his words.

“Harder” was all you could manage to gasp out.

“Hm.. Harder what?”

“Harder please” you whine, with emphasis on the please. You need more, you needed it now.

“Well, since you asked nicely” he responds while wrapping a long hand around your throat, forcing your back to his chest.

The gentle pace replaced with a harder, needier, hungrier one. Your body sags against his chest, as he fucks up into you, squeezing your throat tightly. Pleasure clouds your vision, you lean your head back against his chest and stare up at him with eyes half open, succumbing to the feeling of his hard length slamming into you.

He smirks down at you, snaking his other hand between your legs, finally giving the attention to your clit it so desperately needs.

Electricity spikes through your body as he makes contact with your swollen sensitive clit, your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. You hear him suck in air sharply through his teeth and let out a low growl. He traces shapes, numbers and letters onto your clit, gradually increasing speed, his tongue licking behind your ear.

The pressure in your belly jumps, your eyes roll back, your imminent orgasm threatening. You force yourself back to his gold eyes, your gaze pleading, tears threatening to spill out.

Still smirking, he nods in approval and you let yourself go.

Lightning strikes deep inside you, and wave after wave of euphoric pleasure wrack through your body, stars popping in your vision and long strings of inhuman noises and words leave your lips. Old god fucks you through the waves of your orgasm as you claw at his arms for support. Crying out his name as you cum, your cunt pulses hard squeezing his length.

His thrusts become erratic as you feel him slipping dangerously close to his own release, you reward him by sinking your teeth into the bicep of the arm holding you up, sending him over the edge. He groans loudly, thrusting as deep as he can and you feel hot ropes of cum shooting at the end of your cunt, filling you as he rides out the aftershocks of his own release, slowly thrusting to a stop.

You stand there unmoving in his grasp as he pulls out of you, panting in an attempt to catch your breath, your muscles failing to support you. He seems unaffected by the physical feat, gently bending to hook an arm under your legs, he lifts you in his arms and walks out of the still running shower. The water bill in the tower must have been insane.

You rest your head against his shoulder as he carries you into the bedroom and places you gently on your bed. This reminds you slightly of when you’d levitated him into your bathroom, a little over a week ago. Pulling the covers over your naked body, you lay on your side as you watch the old god pull on anther pair of your boxers (why couldn’t he just get his own???), turn the tv on and lay down on the couch next to your bed.

Feeling a trickle of cum leak out from between your legs, it dawns on you. He was still badly injured. This was him going easy on you.

The truth was that you’d never had the high ground in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long to write bc as much as I love reading porn, im absolute shit at writing it. So pls be gentle, im doing my best to learn. Also I love and hate the writing of this chapter. Im edited it so much that imma just release it. If it sucks OK AND? ill just write the next chapter? 
> 
> This text box is like therapy i swear.
> 
> pls enjoy, my lovely demons.


	5. OSU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short but Hisokas dick is long.
> 
> Try to read everything Hisoka says in his voice. It makes the chapter suck less.

Waking up was uncomfortable again, you were sore and tired. Without opening your eyes, you knew you were on the ground again. Sleep walking was a super fun time, especially when it meant leaving your giant bed and waking up on the floor :—).

At least you were on your back this time, this was a bonus. Finally blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you stare up at the ceiling from the pile of blankets on the floor next to your bed. Excellent.

Hisokas face pops into view, looking down at you from the couch beside you.

“Good morning. I take it you slept well.” his tone playfully mocking you.

You groan and stretch, attempting to rid yourself of the soreness in your muscles, you wince in pain.

Oh yeah. The bruising.

Crawling out of your pile of blankets on the floor you step into the bathroom to assess the damage from last night. Still 0 ragrets.

In the mirror you see yourself, a different version than the day before. Eyes wild, messy hair, skin glowing, disheveled and satisfied.

A necklace of purple bruises grace your neck from his grip on your throat, you trace the markings lightly with your fingers, and your lips pull into a grin. Beautiful.

Tearing off your shirt (when did you put on a shirt???) your eyes are met with teeth marks, bruising, and cuts.

These were a different kind of battle scar, and you love these ones more than the others.

“I think it looks nice, some of my best work yet”, old god says to you from where he stands in the doorway, his gold eyes twinkle as they search your body admiring the bites and bruises.

Even when he was dying he was beautiful. Now he was healing, and the hard body of the man in the doorway made your stomach jump. (h orn yyyy)

You decide to get ready for training, brushing your teeth, hair, washing your face, and pull your hair into a high and tight ponytail. Satisfied, you push past big tall pink man in the doorway to search for some clothes. Finding some, you pull on a black crop top, black spandex shorts and black running shoes. Nice. Black like my soul.

Pleased with yourself, you tread towards the door to head to training. You find yourself being dragged back by some sort of force. Old god must be using his ability. Absolute fucker.

He stands behind you as you stare forward, refusing to look back at him. Holding a card between two fingers, he presses it to your neck, drawing a thin line of blood - “Stay, and i'll make it worth your while” he purrs into your ear.

Your jaw clenches. As much as you’d love to stay and ride this beautiful man into the sunset, you had a much bigger goal in mind, one that would bring him to his knees in a much different way.

Shaking your head in reply, you quickly formulate a new plan, and offer him to join you. This way, you could ask him to train you, pretend to be weak, study his abilities and eventually be the cause of his demise.

“Alright, but don’t expect me to go easy on you.” He seems slightly displeased with your decision, but releases you from his grip in his search for clothes.

FINALLY he’d be leaving your boxers alone.

He walks up behind you having changed into-dear fucking god THIS MANS was wearing YOUR CLOTHES. A white crop top and black sweatpants that were threatening to rip at the seams.

bruH.

You’d kill him if he ripped your pants. At least he had his own shoes on. If he touched your fuzzy pink slippers again, you’d take off his legs. That way he wouldn’t need shoes.

Ignoring him, you slip out of your room into the hallway to head to the elevator down, with him following closely behind. Making it into the elevator, you stand side by side waiting for the training floor, you barely come to his shoulder. Tall big pink man really was tall big, he must’ve been about a foot taller than you.

Using your peripherals, you see the pink star and blue teardrop have taken their place back on his cheeks.

He peers down at you through thick eyelashes, his perma-smirk never seems to leave his lips.

“So quiet.. you only seem to speak when I'm fucking you; I'll have to do that more often.”

You choke on your spit, eyes wide, coughing in the elevator.

( say it with me : H O R N Y)

Hes laughing at you again and the elevators doors slide open, he steps outside, waiting for you.

“Coming?” he calls over his shoulder.

Not yet, you think. You will later. (ah ha).

Finding an empty training room, you stretch out.

Old god sits cross legged on the floor on the other side of the room building a small tower of cards beside him. “Just try not to die” he says, seemingly bored already.

He has no idea who you are, you’d found this out previously and you wanted to keep it that way. You would have to pretend to be weak, pretend to need teaching and guidance. The thought of losing a match chewed at your insides, and you would have to swallow your pride.

“Go on, try and hit me.”

You rush at him straight on, only to be thrown against the opposite wall. Ouch. He really wasn’t going to go easy on you. Activating your ten, you attempt to run at him again. You’re flying forward directly into his fist, he had pulled you with his ability like he had in your room. Your jaw threatened to shatter against his fist. Fuck.

To be convincing you had to use only a 10th of your true aura, using any more would’ve given you away. You would have to let him break you.

~I aimed and i fired, then i fired and i missed, this went on for several hours~

You hadn’t fooled him, he knew you were holding back. Apparently faking weakness wasn’t doing you any favors either, he had barely used any of his true power and you had learned absolutely nothing. But you were still taking a fucking beating.

His next attack was the one that would’ve killed you. Still standing where he had been for the last few hours, he lifted a cement block from the floor and hurled it at you with inhuman strength.

Your reflexes took over and time began to slow, your heart beat echoing in your ears. Closing your eyes, your aura flared out from your body, enveloping you, protecting you as the cement burst around you. As the dust settled you opened your eyes, rage clouded your vision, seeping bloodlust.

“Ahh, there you are.” you hear his voice amplified in your ears, echoing around in your skull.

It was time. It didn’t matter how hard he’d made you cum, you want his blood on your hands more than you’d ever wanted anything in your life. Failing to control the bloodlust seeping out of your aura, you charge at him screaming, the nen in your tattoos tingling in your skin, glowing white - a stark contrast from your olive skin and the dark cloud of aura shrouding you.

Hisoka smiled as you drew closer, intrigue flashing in his eyes, ready to easily block your next attack. You disappear from the room without a trace, materializing behind him, holding a knife to his throat, hand twitching in anticipation thinking of how nice it’d feel to hold his severed head in your hands.

He begins to speak and you pause

“You’re a specialist aren’t you? Very good. But you’ll have to try harder next time.”

You didn’t see the fist connecting to your chest, but you certainly feel it sending you flying backwards. He watches your body slam against the concrete wall behind you and he smiles at you with an eyebrow raised. Engaging Ken, you protect yourself from becoming a splatter of blood and bones against the concrete. Your aura was exhausted, you had nothing left. Darkness ebbs at the edges of your vision.

You catch a glimpse of a pink star and a blue teardrop before everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daddy? 
> 
> Uhhhhhhhhh yeah.
> 
> also s/o to all my lovely demons that read this work, ily all sm!


	6. 0-100 Real Quick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to all my bbys who are dom but also sub.  
> oh god.  
> we have fluff.  
> gross.

You have no idea how long you were out. Your body was hurting, but so was your pride which is somehow worse.

Waking up in bed for once was a nice surprise. How did you get here? A question you're fucking tired of asking.

Resting for a bit you lay on your side, facing the floor to ceiling window on the other side of your bed. It was night, and the city lights brightly twinkled in the distance below. You noticed you were on the far side of the bed, opposite from where you usually slept. Unfazed, you let this thought slip by. You’re too tired to be spicy.

Hearing the shuffling of cards behind you, you turn over to face the old god - sitting cross legged on the bed beside you. Ok. Maybe you’re not too tired to be spicy.

Hisoka watches you intently, shuffling his deck without taking his eyes off yours.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was worried id have to find someone else to fight.”

You ignore this.

“What time is it?”

“12:44, almost 1 in the morning.”

“How many days was I out for?” this question seems to throw him off, his face darkening slightly. You’d never seen him look displeased, but here it was written on his face.

“Long enough” he replies quietly.

Cute. Your dinner was actually concerned about you. (here's my friday afternoon snack, thanks mum, for the money) You miss the Hisoka that had beaten you into submission.

You assumed he had brought you here, taking care of you like you had taken care of him. Excellent. What a pair you were, both injured and unwilling to accept defeat.

Hisoka climbs over to you to kneel next to you, staring down at you, his gold eyes reflecting in the dark.

“Hungry?” he inquires, you nod your head.

“Good.” His eyes never leaving you, he slides his pants down his hips revealing his hardening length. He palms his growing erection, precum already leaking out of the tip. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth.

He positions himself over you, you open your mouth to accept his length. Your eyes water as soon as you open your jaw, pain radiating into your teeth. Though you knew it wasn’t, your jaw felt shattered.

Shutting out the pain you focus on the task at hand (or in mouth lmfao), he tastes sweet and warm as you flick the underside of his cock with your tongue, massaging his length with your lips wound tightly around him. He lets out a heavy growl and begins to thrust slowly in your mouth, threatening to break through to the back of your throat. Bringing his hand to cup the uninjured side of your face, he strokes his thumb across your cheek, still thrusting into your mouth. This was out of character for him, you waited for him to snap.

And he did.

He raised his hand and slapped you hard across the face, your eyes water, you slip for just a second and drag your teeth across his cock as he thrusts harder into your mouth, earning a deep moan from his lips. Picking up speed, he slaps you again with equal force, plunging his length deeper. You feel him force through to the back of your throat, cutting off your air supply, fucking your skull. Tears leak down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth, he brings a hand to your face and you brace for impact. He was playing with you again, he wipes the tears off your cheeks and you relax again slightly.

Bad move.

He slaps you, harder than the two previous blows combined, you’re convinced the other side of your jaw is broken. This does nothing to deter him from viciouslythrusting into the back of your throat, choking you on his cock.

Something in you switches on, you begin to make an effort to take him deeper in your throat. He falls forward, grasping onto the headboard above you to balance himself deeper in you. His breathing ragged, he hooks one hand under the back of your neck holding you better in place and you feel him shudder. His hard length twitches and begins to pulse in your mouth, dripping warm cum into your throat, blocking your air supply with his load. Shuddering, he pulls out of your mouth, holding your jaw open with his thumb on your tongue. He leans over you, spitting directly into your mouth and commands you, “Swallow.” You obey, tears still spilling down your cheeks.

“Good girl” he purrs at you. Then and there you decide that was your favorite thing in the fucking world and you would do anything he wanted if that meant he would call you that again.

0-100 real mf quick.

Old god steps off the bed, picking you up he carries you in his arms into the bathroom, gently setting you down on the shower floor. Allowing yourself to be stripped of your clothes, you wait for the water to turn on and for him to step in and join you. You draw your knees into your chest, allowing the water falling above you to conceal your tears. It had been a long time since you were this bruised, this bloody, this drained, this beaten. Maybe you needed it. Your shoulders shake as you bring your forehead to rest on your knees, you barely notice as he steps into the shower, standing behind you.

Wordlessly he runs his fingers through your hair, washing out the blood crusted to your scalp, the water runs red again. You allow him to maneuver you around to wash your hair and body. He does so gently, and gods this mans really had his moments. You hear him step out of the shower, turning the water off, he returns with a towel.

Wrapping the fluffy white towel around you, he picks you up again. You can’t understand how a god with such violent tendencies could immediately go from killing you to caring for you.

Maybe you cared for him a little too, it was most likely just your tiredness setting in though. You rest your cheek on his chest, eyes closing before he places you down on the bed. Assessing the pain in your body you determined you definitely needed more sleep and more time to heal.

Too drained to even pull the covers up over yourself, you were grateful he had helped you shower, even if the price had been attempting to break your jaw again.

Your eyelids heavy, you begin to drift off into soft dreams.

Until you feel a large pair of arms gently spread your legs open, lifting your knees over toned shoulders. You shiver, warm breath between your legs, soft lips drawn to your inner thigh. You wait, feeling lips move up your leg, hands with sharp claws digging into your thighs. Opening your heavy eyes, you look down at him. He's watching you, tongue beginning to draw patterns on your inner thigh. Your senses heightened, you jump, craving what you know would come next.

His tongue begins to trace up and down your slit, dipping between your folds, teasing your opening with the tip of his tongue, tasting the wetness between your legs. You reach down, lacing your fingers through his soft pink hair, drawing him into you further.

Finally turning his attention to your sensitive clit, he hums in approval, sending tremors into your belly, already tightening with his tongue circling your nub.

He writes poems, paragraphs and essays in cursive on your clit, you grip his hair and the sheets, legs shaking, back arched, eyes rolled. Pressure was building in your belly again, you feel a long finger teasing your entrance, slowly pushing inside you, your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself tighten around his finger.

His tongue on your clit gently working faster, his finger slowly pushing in and out of you draws strings of high pitched whimpers and sobs from your lips.

Hisokas movements pull you in, guiding you closer and closer to the edge, gently pushing you over. The pressure inside you snaps, you cry out in prayers to the gods above as well as the god between your legs.

Ripples of heat and light spread out from your belly throughout your body, pleasure rips through you and splits you open raw. He continues to trace your clit as you cum on his tongue, licking up the wetness dripping out of you. You finally come down, opening your eyes you see his continually observing you, your cum dripping down his chin, the smirk never leaving his lips.

Reaching down for him, you pull him by his hair. He climbs overtop you, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips. You kiss him, and he kisses you back. He’s being gentle with you, you know this. He had almost killed you, you wonder why he’d stopped.

Was your pussy just too powerful? Yes. Absolutely. 

You deepen the kiss, this time your tongue slips between his teeth and he lets you explore, mapping out every inch. Wrapping your legs around him, you pull him closer to you, his hand placed lightly in your hair. Moving your hand between your bodies, you reach down for his length, finding it already hardened. You guide him between your legs, sliding the warm head of his cock up and down your slit, still sensitive and slick with spit and cum.

He groans into your mouth as you line the tip of his length up with your entrance, and gently push your hips up in an attempt to draw him in. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, lips slightly parted as you wrap your legs around him tighter, waiting. Tentatively he pushes into you, giving you inch by inch moving slowly. He wasn’t trying to hurt you this time. RUDE.

Finally he was inside you, gently rocking his hips into you. You pull him in tighter, your face pressed against his collarbone, his lips at your neck. Opening your legs wider for him, you lift your legs, wrapping them higher around his back. He moans into the skin on your neck at this new found depth inside you. His movements become faster, he’s still equally gentle with you, like you were made of glass and could shatter at any second.

Reaching under you, he gathers you in his arms, holding you still as he rolls onto his back, pulling you with him to come to a rest on top of him. You move to sit up and ride him, but he pulls you back to him, holding you still as he resumes thrusting into you. This angle, deeper than before, pulls warmth into your belly again and you gasp, moaning into his neck as his cock moves against spots inside you you didn’t know existed. With every thrust your clit brushes against his body, your pussy tightens.

It's a competition of whoever can last longer, you would win this battle at least, and you aren’t playing fair.

He pants at your ear, snaking his hand between your bodies, making light circles on your clit. That was all you needed. Nipping his neck and jawline, you pulse your cunt on him, feeling him twitch inside you, his climax threatening, his fingers never leaving your clit. You feel yourself at the edge, but you wait.

He loses. You feel him shudder, pulsing warm liquid into you, filling you up, intensifying the warmth in your belly tenfold. So close, the feeling of his length spilling his load into you pulls you over the edge, your pussy tightens milking cum from him, crying out you ride out the waves of your own orgasm, collapsing down onto him.

And that was all the energy you had, you’re unable to lift yourself off of him, so you stay there resting with your head against his chest listening to his steady heartbeat, his length still sheathed inside you. You wait for him to lift you off, go watch tv, build his stupid towers of cards, do anything else, but he doesn't. You keep waiting for the disconnect that doesn’t come.

Eyelids becoming heavy, you feel long fingers tracing the lines of tattoos down your back as you float off to sleep in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LaDIES AND GENTS WE HAVE AFTERCARE. I TOO AM DISGUSTED WITH MYSELF.  
> I actually didn't hate writing this chapter.  
> Hisoka has ruined me for all men.  
> I offer my spine as sacrifice.


	7. Soup Stealer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that I'm planning this to be a long fic so not every chapter is going to feature Hisoka blowing your back out, we need a little character development too.
> 
> Also ive been getting a lot of hate comments and were only a few chapters in. Its kind of discouraging ( i have thin skin). If there’s anything that offends you or something you don’t want to see pls pls pls tell me.   
> Yes this is my work but like I want you guys to enjoy it too.  
> PLs leave feedback if you have thoughts on anything here!
> 
> Also, id love to share my IG handle with u guys, but im nervous it'll change your view on the story if you know who's writing it. Pls share thoughts.

Once again confronting your reflection in the ornate gold mirror in the bathroom, you looked more alive than dead. Fine fine fine.

You didn’t have any more time to lay in bed and be injured, it was after noon and you had shit to do.

Hisoka was gone when you woke this morning and you figured he wouldn’t be coming back. To be honest, it didn’t bother you. You missed the time you spent alone, you prefer solidarity over company any day. His company you hadn’t minded, most others exhaust you. He exhausted you in a different way ;-))))))).

Yikes.

Anyways.

You saved makeup for special occasions, like this one - where your body was black and blue, face barely recognizable. If people saw how badly you were injured, they’d realize you’re not as invincible as everyone believed, the facade would crack, the legend would die and you’d lose your power over them.

Ugh. Inconvenient.

Everyone has auras, some can harness it. But makeup was fucking witchcraft and you loved it behind closed doors.

As a successful fighter, men wouldn’t take you seriously if you looked “pretty”. So you opt to fit in with the trash most day.

Today, you’d reward your pain with makeup and an adventure out of the tower.

It takes you over an hour just to cover how fucked your face was at the moment (lol last @ chapter), you gave up on trying to hide the bruises on your body with makeup, deciding an oversized black hoodie would do enough to hide your bruises and easily identifiable tattoos. Smoothing your hair into a high pony, you pull on some tight fitting black biker shorts and black chunky sneakers. Today you would do your best to look normal, be normal and fit in. Like playing a game of hide and seek with everyone you met, a game they didn’t know they themselves were playing. Finally ready, you observe yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your work.

The girl in the reflection was pretty, she could pass as normal. She was outgoing, smiles easily, has lots of friends, she’s kind, gentle, 0 power, has no self destructive tendencies and no trauma. (LMFAO as if that exists.)

You were not her. Nor did you want to be, but you would play pretend for the day. 

Happy to be in disguise, you want to run laps around the room but you’re in pain still and the best you can do is walk at a semi-normal pace. You hadn’t had a day off in god knows how fucking long.

TIME FOR A SIDE QUEST.

Grabbing your phone, door key and purse, you rush out your front door, almost floating to the elevator with excitement.

This range of emotion is uncharacteristic for you, but you deserved it today.

Waiting in front of the elevator you spot two little boys yelling at each other over a map, walking your way. If the boys were on this floor, they had earned their place here and you could respect and understand that. You understand exactly what it's like to be a minority in the majority.

A powerful girl? Rare.

Two young powerful boys? Rare.

Same same but different but still same.

This floor was ruled by misogynistic, patriarchal creeps. Gross.

One of the boys you recognize, small, dark hair, wearing green. He had fought Hisoka the night you’d met him. Though you’re not quite sure if his unconscious body in your bathtub counted as meeting him….

The little boy in green was shouting excitedly at his friend, his aura shone brightly around him a light gold. Ah yes. Young innocence. What a time to be alive.

The friend of the boy in green had white hair and piercing blue eyes, this boys aura crackled electric blue. His footsteps made no sound. How young was he when he learned that technique? You yourself had only mastered it at the age of 20.

Boy in green still chattering excitedly at white haired boy, who was calm and composed. You noticed it then, they were yin and yang. The light and the dark living in perfect harmony, completely synchronized.

They arrive to wait for the elevator beside you, still fighting over the map. The door slides open and you step inside, waiting for them to join you. Pressing the button to the lobby, you stare at the wall lost in thought.

“Hey Lady!” the voice of the boy in green catches your attention. You look down at their open faces. “We’re trying to find the merchants market, do you know where it is?” pointing down to his map.

You smile at them “Sure. I can take you there if you’d like.”

“Thanks! That sounds great!” Boy in green’s face splits into a wide grin.

You nod your head at them. “You two had better conceal your aura before we get off the elevator though.”

They look at you with wide eyes. “I forgot to do that!” boy in green shouts.

You giggle as they scrunch their faces, focusing hard on reigning in their aura. The elevator comes to a stop at the lobby and the three of you set off into the city.

“My names Gon!” boy in green tells you, “and im Killua!” the boy in blue.

You tell them your name.

“Nice to meet you!” Gon says, looking up at you. The two boys go back to chattering amongst themselves as you lead the way. You walk silently, enjoying the scenery of normal life. After a short walk, you round the corner into a long alley of merchants lining both sides.

Gasping with excitement, Gon takes off running and Killua chases after him. Killua turns and yells “Thanks for your help!” smiling over his shoulder, waving goodbye.

You wave back at him. You had a feeling you’ll be seeing them again soon.

Turning back around, you’re off to run your own errands. You explore shops, picking up a some essentials (you needed more boxers, a certain some fuck kept taking yours), a few books, some fuzzy pink socks, an extra first aid kid, and find yourself in a tea shop. Deciding between coffee and bubble tea, you choose an iced latte with tapioca pearls (dont knock it till you try it my guy).

Your day off seemed to be going perfectly, too perfectly. You had a sinking feeling in your gut that it would not continue this way. You had been out for hours, time seemed to move faster outside the walls of the arena, and it was getting dark already.

Picking up dinner on the way home, you stop to pick up Pho noodles. Happy and relaxed, you carry your soup and bags back to the arena, up to the 200th floor, unlocking your door, into your room. You drop your bags by the floor, setting your soup down on a side table, you change into fresh pajamas.

Turning on the light to the bathroom you inspect your face. You had gone the whole day wearing this makeup and not a single bruise shone through. Silently thanking whoever invented makeup that strong, you freeze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

A voice somewhere behind you echoes in your ears,

“How was your tea?”

You know exactly what that meant.

He had followed you.

And you hadn’t noticed.

Oh boy.

Hisoka steps behind you, meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“You look nice, but I much prefer the other version of you.”

You roll your eyes

“Who are you again? Are you done here?”

Power move.

Noice.

His eyes flash with anger, yanking you back to his chest by your ponytail, forcing your head back to meet his gaze.

You feel rage in your throat. Never again would you wear a ponytail around this man.

Rookie mistake.

“Oh no, im not done with you yet” he purrs down at you.

Old god had two moods, bloodthirsty and….. whatever else went on inside his goldfish sized brain.

No, that was an insult to the goldfish.

He wasn’t stupid, not even in the slightest, you were insulting him to quell your own fear.

You knew exactly which mood this was, but it had never been directed at you before, it wasn’t something you were ready for yet.

The anger in your throat turns cold, replaced by heavy fear. He wasn’t injured anymore, but you were. He’d caught you vulnerable.

You should’ve stayed in the tower and trained today.

“I see you’ve met my friend Gon, he’s a good boy. I would like to kill him one day when he’s finally ready.” For the first time you see his eyes darken, oozing bloodlust from his aura.

“You on the other hand, may not make it out of this tower alive.” The words sending chills down your spine.

“This was your first lesson, as I do owe you for your earlier kindness. I will let you live, for now. You let your guard down today, which was a mistake. I trust that you won’t make the same mistake again.”

Powerless, you nod.

“Good girl.” There it was.

You feel the rage returning, and heat pooling between your legs, your body betraying you. You curse at yourself silently.

“I almost forgot, I brought you something.”

That couldn’t be good.

Still keeping his iron grip on your hair, he lifts one of his cards into view.

oh fuck oh god oh fuck oh god.

This is it.

You were going to die.

This would be the pathetic end of the legacy you worked so hard to build.

A fucking playing card.

You feel the card brush lightly over your neck, then a sharp nick of pain.

He releases his grip on your hair, and you stare at your neck in the mirror. He had lodged the corner of a playing card in your jugular.

Horrified, you see him enjoying the look of shock on your face. With that, he left the bathroom and the cards' knife like properties vanished. But the card was still lodged in your jugular.

You weigh out your options.

  1. You remove the card, and you could bleed out and die. Sooooo fucking metal.
  2. You remove the card, and its not deep enough to kill you, you escape with your life.
  3. You go to the infirmary and beg for help. 
  4. You remove the card, and use the extra first aid kit you’d just picked up to try and stop the bleeding.
  5. ……….i got nothing.



You choose option 6. Ripping the card in half, you leave the corner of the card lodged in your jugular, praying that it wasn’t deep enough to restrict the blood flow. Holding a washcloth to your neck to prevent bleeding, you leave the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit you from your bags.

Hisoka was gone, and so was your soup.

He had stolen your soup.

Fucking soup stealer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I busted out 3 chapters today, but not every day is going to be like this. Ill write as many as I can and hopefully post one a day once my semester starts again. 
> 
> I love u all sm.
> 
> I dream of dying by Hisokas cards. There will be more on that later I promise.


	8. The Back Blowening is Upon Us.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if we kissed aha. Just kidding.  
> Unless..?
> 
> Also this chapter is completely sub, srry.
> 
> The fuckening has arrived.
> 
> Also pls refrain from the hate comments :( I have thin skin :(

Several weeks passed, and time flew by. You had won your first 4 fights on the 200th floor easily. Too easily.

Piece of cake.

Boring.

Back in your routine of training for hours every day, you were healed and you hadn’t been injured since the incident. You meditated daily, focusing on concentrating and strengthening your aura. Gon and Killua desperately needed training and you were happy to help. As much as you spend time training by yourself, you spend equal amounts of time with the young boys focusing on the basics. This was helping your own practice.

You hadn’t seen him since he’d lodged a card in your jugular, and you rushed home every night after training hoping he’d be there waiting in your room.

To try and kill you again. The thought of this made your chest tighten with excitement.

He had said he wasn’t done with you yet, and you knew he was coming for you.

The question was when?

After a particularly long day of taking down opponent after opponent, you arrive home tired.

Opening the door, you spot a silhouette in the darkness, outlined by the city lights flowing softly through the window behind.

You smirk. You’d been waiting.

Stepping further inside your room, he’s sitting cross legged on your bed, observing your every move. You come to a stop in the center of the room, standing before him.

“Come to finish what you’ve started?” you smirk at him.

“I won’t kill you yet, but I will finish you.” his smooth words from inside the dark.

(AAAAAAAAHA HA H OR NY)

The words that make your knees weak,

Yep. That was it. I can die happy now.

The memory of him holding a card to your throat, grasping your ponytail in his fist makes heat rush to your belly.

You’d rethought your previous decision, and chose to wear ponytails every fucking day since, craving to be helpless under his control again.

He was the only one that could do that to you, the only one who ever had.

And you had been a brat to provoke him. And it had worked.

oh yeah. horny.

“Are you going to play nice this time?” you inquire

“No, I don’t think I will.” you can almost hear him smirking in the darkness.

Yuh.

Heat continues to rush into your belly, drawing down, pooling between your legs.

You want this to hurt.

You pounce. All at once on him, ripping at his clothes as he hurriedly pulls you out of yours. He wanted this as badly as you did, you realize.

Perfect.

You want the old god to destroy you, and you were willing to offer your life.

You straddle him, clawing at his back, craving his wrath.

and it would come. (as will he LOL)

He grabs at your throat, squeezing and you feel yourself succumb to the imminent blackness threatening at the corners of your vision, you grin.

You’re on top of him, then under him in the blink of an eye, hand still constricting at your throat.

His other hand comes into view, slapping your cheek with a force that clashed your teeth, rattled your brain, reddening your face, your grin never leaving you.

He strikes your face over and over, you lose count. Your bottom lip splits wit the last slap, blood leaking into your mouth.

Again, he straddles your face, hovering his erection in view, your mouth waters. Attempting to reach up to guide him into your waiting mouth, you find your hands unable to move. Something was holding you down, you start to panic.

He smirks down at you, eyes reflecting gold in the dark.

“I see you understand my ability now, bungee-gum will hold you in place so I don’t have to. It really is for less work for me.”

Your open legs shake as you attempt to lift them. Your hands and legs are pinned in place.

Completely at his mercy, your pussy clenches.

This was better than you ever could’ve imagined.

Opening your lips to moan at your helplessness, he plunges his cock into your mouth cutting your sounds short, your chest heaving with excitement at the weight of his length. He thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace, you can’t breathe, nor do you want to. Gagging on his cock, tears and snot leak out of you.

You’d be content choking to death on his cock.

Hisoka seems to be frustrated with the angle, not able to fit into your throat the way he wants. Leaning down he slaps you again earning more blood from your split lip, pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop.

Still tied down with bungee-gum, you wait for his next round of punishment. He slides off his position over your face, only to straddle your face again - this time facing away from you. He forces himself into your mouth again with a low growl, this angle easily allowing him to slide directly into your throat, your eyes roll back as he resumes fucking your skull.

As you’re distracted with your lack of air, he dives between your legs, the sudden attention on your swollen clit makes you scream, silenced by his cock in your throat.

He forces two long fingers into your soaking cunt while nipping at your sensitive clit, you buck your hips up at his face. Displeased by your movements he hisses through his teeth, biting down hard on you clit, fingers still plunging inside you. You yelp through his thrusts in your throat, the pain in your lips and throat blocked out by the pressure deep inside you as he fucks you with his fingers, tongue flicking relentlessly on your clit.

You feel the heat building inside you, the dam threatening to break as he pushes you further and further towards your climax. Your cunt clenches down on his fingers, encouraging him to push you over the edge, right fucking there, so fucking close.

And he stops, leaving you hanging there at the precipice of your climax.

Motherfucker.

He lifts off of you, pulling out of your mouth and you whimper, begging him to let you cum.

Hisoka steps off the bed, you feel yourself slowly sliding back down away from your climax. He returns into view, holding a card. Your eyes widen, blood running cold as you struggle at your invisible restraints, choking back a scream.

“I already said I wouldn’t kill you” he soothes.

Yep. Nope.

This did nothing to calm you.

He moves to the end of the bed, positioning himself between your legs as you’re frozen in fear.

He plunges two fingers into you, curling them up, beckoning your climax back, you whimper his name.

As soon as you’re close again, he removes his fingers to bring the card to the skin on your chest, directly below your sternum.

He begins to carve into your skin, drawing tiny rivulets of blood from you. 

It wouldn’t kill you, but you knew he was cutting to scar, you didn’t want to see whatever he was marking into your skin yet. The pain drew tiny sobs from your lips, tears threatening to spill again.

One hand holding the card still carving slowly into you, the other hand forces two fingers back inside you, thumb circling your clit, fingers curling inside you.

He knew exactly what he was doing, pushing you forward, forcing you to walk the fine line between pleasure and pain.

The card in your flesh and the fingers inside you cancel each other out and you feel nothing but euphoria surging inside you.

So close again to the most powerful thing inside you that you’d ever felt, your vision blurs, a scream building in your throat, your mouth hanging open with a smile gracing your lips.

And he leaves you at the edge again.

M o t h e r f u c k e r.

Removing his fingers from inside you, lifting the card from your body he eyes the patterns he’s worked into your skin.

He forces the fingers that were inside you into your mouth, coated with the juices that were soaking out of you. You moan at the taste.

Bringing his tongue to the new cuts on your chest, he sucks away the blood he had drawn from you. Moving his lips from your bloody sternum to your breasts, he bites down on the metal bar through your nipple, hand palming at your other breast, squeezing and rolling your hardened bud in his fingers.

You shiver, defenseless and loving every second.

You’re able to lift your limbs again. FInally. You claw at the back of his neck, drawing him in closer.

Immediately, you’re flipped on your stomach, face pushed into the mattress.

You grin into the sheets, the cotton sticking to your teeth. Old god wraps your ponytail around his fist, forcing your head up, pushing your back down hard, lifting your hips to meet his.

FUCK yes.

This is exactly why you’d worn a ponytail for weeks straight.

Lifting your hips further you feel him kneeling behind you, lining himself up with your soaking entrance, you brace for impact.

He slams into you. Splitting you in half, breaking you open, out for blood this time. Murder in his violent thrusts.

He plunges into the deepest parts of you over and over, hitting your cervix with every movement, punishing you.

Your legs shake, his length sending tremors through your body and you cry his name over and over with broken gasps, spine threatening to tear itself in half, your hips held in place.

This was bliss. You spent your days living with dominance and you craved how he beat you into submission.

Your new wounds rubbed themselves raw with every impact of his hips into yours, threatening to send you flying forward, the grip on your hair holding you still.

He would break your back, rip out your hair, or snap your neck.

You wonder which one will come first.

Pressure builds inside you again, inching closer with every thrust, you feel your pussy twitch.

Finally he releases your hair and you fall forward, he leans forward on all fours over you, speeding up his already brutal pace, you scream into the sheets, gripping at his wrists on either side of you.

Freeing a wrist from your grasp, he snakes a hand under you to rub circles at your clit as he pounds into you.

Thats it. Game over.

Your brain shuts off.

Lowering himself onto one forearm he hooks his fingers into your mouth, wrenching your head to the side, forcing your eyes to his, the other hand still flicking circles on your clit.

“Good girl” he whispers into your ear, words half broken with heavy breaths.

That was all you needed to hear.

Your eyes roll back, vision going black as every single ounce of pleasure held in your body is let out in screams and half formed words.

Thank fuck the door is soundproof.

Waves of electricity roll out of you, your entire body shakes, and every single cell in your being explodes with white hot light.

You cum the hardest you ever have in your entire life. Cunt pulsing, your climax draws his, milking his cock for every drop of cum. He lets out ragged moans, filling you up, fucking you through the waves of his own orgasm.

You collapse unable to move, still paralyzed with pleasure.

As Hisokas breathing calms, he pulls out of you, leaving you panting with your face in the sheets you’re still gripping, knuckles white.

You didn’t hear him leave, but you could feel his aura disappear out your door.

Shifting in the sheets you feel the sharp bite of the cuts on your chest you’d forgotten about.

Attempting to crawl out of bed you make it to the floor, your knees weak. Warm cum trickles out of you, sliding down your legs as you wobble to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, you inspect the girl in the reflection.

You were a fucking mess, dried tears and snot on your face, muscles sore, cheeks red, bruises forming, and hair half pulled out of your now pathetic excuse for a ponytail.

Your eyes in the mirror catch at the inflamed red wounds on your chest, you trace them lightly with your fingers.

Hisoka.  
Carved into your flesh.

You were branded with his name, it would heal and scar.

Your split lips break into a wide grin.

This wasn’t fucking over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, If there’s anything that offends you or something you don’t want to see pls pls pls tell me. I want you guys to enjoy my work too. PLs leave feedback if you have thoughts on anything here!
> 
> I love u all so v much.
> 
> I wrote this last night at 4 am on the notes on my phone & it ended up being way too dark, so I had to redo the entire thing today :-)
> 
> Also, Im a whore for Hisoka.


	9. I Only Take Bubble Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Hisoka in a large bubble bath drinking boba tea. sorry.
> 
> Also lmk if you guys want to see more fucking or more fighting.

Finally, you were getting a solid nights sleep consistently. That doesn’t mean that you didn’t wake up in weird places constantly (on your table? Why?), but at least you were sleeping well.

The monotony of your life had been broken by something new and exciting. Not exactly new, but exciting none the less.

Almost nightly he was either waiting for you, or he would come to you and in the morning he’d be gone. During the days you went about your normal life, training, fighting, killing.

Feeling nothing but blackness inside you until you walked across your doorstep every night, you allowed him to fill the hole in your life (and the hole in u lmfao).

Each cycle of the sun brought fighting and fucking.

0% Mad about it.

During training today, you’d locked yourself in a cement room alone to conjure the full amount of your aura.

No one in the tower had seen it, they didn’t need to yet.

Bloodlust threatening inside your chest, you’d summoned every ounce of your energy, just to see what you could do.

And you sensed him. Not outside the door, but nearby.

Panicking, you conceal your aura at lightning speed, fearing he'd sensed you.

Then again, you hadn’t used even half of your full strength last time he’d beaten you senseless, you assume he wouldn’t recognize your aura at this strength. He expected something weaker than you are.

Still, that was fucking reckless of you.

The scars on your chest finally healed, still puffy against your smooth olive skin.

You wore them with pride, you had danced with the devil and lived to tell the tale.

Something was throwing you off though, failing to add up.

When you summoned your full aura during training, your tattoos shone like they normally do with nen, glowing white light tracing lines through your skin.

This is where it gets fucking weird.

You noticed your shirt glowing.

It wasn’t your shirt, it was the scars underneath. His name glowed a soft pink on your chest.

He knew the normally black ink in your skin was tapped with nen, you’re sure of it.

And he must’ve known how to do it himself, there it was.

An infinitesimal amount of pink aura trapped in your skin. It wasn’t yours.

But why was it there?

The master of tricks as he was, you know for fucking sure he didn’t do it out of kindness.

Queen of weighing out scenarios, aw shit here we go again:

  1. You confront him over it.
  2. ~~You carve it out of your skin.~~ He would probably just do it again. 
  3. You ask him to remove it somehow?
  4. You fight him over it. (bad idea).
  5. You don’t confront him over it, you bide your time and the truth will come to light eventually. 



You’re in it to play the long game. #5 is the best route for the time being.

Leaving the training room, you decide to be extra af today.

Closing your eyes you disappear, reappearing inside your room, standing in front of your window.

You love this floor to ceiling window more than anything, its your favorite part of this room. You love how the lights from the city below flowed through the window, casting a soft glow throughout. It was peaceful so high up, no sound reaching you here.

Just the lights twinkling below the dark sky. The higher up the tower, the brighter the stars shone through the blackness of night.

You could scream bloody murder, no one could hear you up so high, and no one could touch you.

You’ll conquer all of it one day. Everything you see, everything the light touches, you’ll rule. (Simbaaaa)

Drunk on a power trip.

Shaking off these thoughts, you leave the lights off as you strip out of your training clothes in the bedroom, making your way into the bathroom, your eyes settle on the tub.

FUck yeah. You hadn’t taken a bath since the creator had almost let you drown.

Dumping an entire bottle of bubble bath into the tub slowly filling with water, you light the candles lining the bath and the room. You may have made a miscalculation with the amount of the bubble bath you’d needed. As the water filled higher in the tub, a giant cloud of bubbles mushroomed over the edges of the bath.

Honestly, mood.

Deciding the tub was full enough, you turn off the water, stepping in the tub, leaving a you-sized hole in the cloud of bubbles you couldn’t see over. You close your eyes, letting the hot water caress your sore body, relieving the tension, melting away the anger. You’re extra careful not to fall asleep in case the creator tries to pull some shit again.

Something about being in water fixes you, it fills the cracks in your heart and makes you dream of home. You miss your small island with your small town, the kindness of the people there. You miss your mother and your sisters, and most of all you miss the days you’d spend in the clear blue calm saltwater underneath a cloudless sky. The sand was so brilliantly white where it met the sea it hurt your eyes to look directly at it. Behind the sand, the lush tropics of your island, a sea of bright green.

Sometimes the sky would go a dark gray, but that was rare, and it was only when the volcano at the opposite end of your island would erupt. Every time it did, you'd watch for hours as it spewed black ash into the atmosphere, bubbling over with molten lava. You respect the power of the volcano, and you aspire to embody it.

Keeping everything contained until you blow open with endless power and wrath that makes the earth quake.

The memories of your island played out behind your eyelids, the images so bright in your head it hurts your eyes as they adjust to the dark in the bathroom.

You lose track of how long you’ve been in the tub, the bubbles finally subsiding enough that you finally gain some visibility of the room.

The soft light of the flickering candles throw shadows across the room,

A few different times you swear you see a figure in the dark, but you can’t sense anything lurking there, you relax again.

Gold eyes reflect in the dark from the doorway.

Fuck.

You summon your nen, focusing Gyo. He’s there, leaning against the doorframe. You hadn’t heard him, which meant he could’ve been there for any length of time.

Shit.

Youreeee embarrassed.

“How long have you been here?” asking the figure in the dark.

“Does it really matter?”the warm enticing voice still managing to make your shiver.

You guess it didn’t, the point is that he’d been there and you hadn’t noticed.

You’re staring at him staring at you. 

He fills the doorway entirely, how tall big pink man didn’t hit his head on the doorframe every time he entered a room was beyond you.

His bare chest sports a new patch of bruising, he’s wearing white pants, aaaaaaaand your fuzzy pink slippers once again make an appearance on his feet.

You’d hid those too.. he must have spent some time hunting for them.

He could beat you black and blue, but THAT was the one fucking thing you drew the line at.

Not wanting to ruin the night, you say nothing and swallow your pride.

Stepping into the center of the bathroom, he removes his pants, and you vow to make a better effort at hiding your slippers.

Walking over to the bath, he towers over you for a moment before sinking into the water across from you.

This was supposed to be a one man bath party and you are that one man.

Rude.

The water rises higher with both of you in the bath, threatening to spill over the edges with any sudden movement.

There isn’t enough room in this bath for his long ass legs, and you combined.

His feet rest on either side of you, he still has to bend his knees to fit.

Sighing amongst the bubbles almost hiding him from view, he runs a wet hand through his hair. The candles lining the bath throw soft light across his face, highlighting his delicately angular features.

This would've been almost romantic if you weren’t trying to kill each other.

Great.

Excellent.

He leans forward to rest his elbows on his bent knees, looking at you, through you, before gazing off into a corner somewhere.

Once again you feel exposed, water dripping from your hair down your chest, sweat sliding off your brow.

You view him as an equal. You wonder how he sees you.

“I may have found someone exciting enough to kill.”

You freeze, doing your best to steady your breath.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he hums, “the bloodlust coming from the training floor was just exquisite.”

Yes, you think. It was you.

“Who was it?” afraid to hear his answer.

“Oh, I don’t know yet. But id love to find out..” his smooth voice tinged with excitement, gold eyes slightly darker.

He didn’t know yet. Thank fuck. It wasn’t time.

But when would it be time? You don’t have an answer for that.

Sighing again, he takes your wrists in his hands, pulling you onto him.

Sitting with your legs wrapped around him, you place your hands around the nape of his neck, his hands supporting the small of your back, you lean back to study his face.

As much as you’d analyzed him, you still hadn’t figured him out, not completely.

There were versions of him, each appearing at different times, looking exactly the same but so incredibly different.

There was the Joker who fucked you senseless, the Grim Reaper who tried to kill you, Tall Big Pink Man who wore your boxers and fuzzy slippers, the Old God who radiated power, Soup Stealer who was… self explanatory, but yet there were more.

Versions of him that you couldn’t put a name to, didn’t have words for yet.

You wipe the star and teardrop off his cheeks with the water on your hands. Which version of him was the one you were sitting on top of?

He brings a long finger to the pink scars on your chest, tracing his name on your skin.

“I think they suit you” referencing his card work,

(HA GET IT. HARD WORK. CARD WORK. forget it.)

You nod in agreement. You love them somehow.

He was being kind for once, or something along the lines of that. You know it won’t last long, and you know there’s always something lurking underneath the surface of his kindness.

You always feel 10 steps behind wherever he is. He consistently had the high ground, for now.

Bringing your face to his, gold eyes holding your gaze through heavy lids, you kiss him.

He opens his mouth, drawing you in deeper, heat forms between your legs in the water, the sensation of your bodies soaking in water intensified.

“I hate you” you provoke him, kissing the words into his mouth, feeling a smile pull at his lips.

Breaking from your lips he licks the sweat off the side of your neck

“Love and hate are two sides of the same coin” he muses at you, nipping at the scar on your jugular vein, before crushing your throat in his grip, raising you slightly out of the water.

“I fucking hate you” you manage to squeak out.

“You’re not a very good liar, you know” without warning, he forces his fingers inside you, you whimper in response.

Lifting you up further, he tosses you away from him, your body turning from the force of the throw, narrowly avoiding breaking your face on the side of the bath.

Hes on his knees behind you, pushing down on your back, lifting your hips. This is familiar isn’t it?

Looking over your shoulder, his eyes are searching greedily over your body, eyes meeting yours at last flashing with lust, he spits on his hand without breaking away from your gaze to rub his saliva on your soaked pussy. Lightly passing his fingertips over your clit, your cunt twitches in waiting.

Lining his hardness with your entrance, he rubs the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing more wetness from inside you.

He splits you open, filling you completely, coming to rest at the end of you. And its different this time. Rocking into you, he’s so deliciously hard inside you, it feels like you’re being fucked by steel.

0 complaints from your department.

Time seems to meld together, you have no idea how long he’s been pounding into you with vicious fervor, all you know is that your cunt feels raw and stretched.

So does your brain, empty of all thoughts, feeling only him inside you, pulling at the heat deep in your belly.

Legs shaking, you grip the edge of the bath for dear life, and you’re fucking drained.

And he’s not. oop.

You feel him reach under you, his hand in the water searching for your sensitive clit.

The water was almost cold, and goosebumps raise on your flesh. You can’t tell if youre shivering from the cold or the hard length relentless inside you.

He makes contact with your clit and your body clenches, muscles contracting around him. You were close already, he would send you flying over the edge. His pace inside you was fucking rough and fast but the circles on your clit were not.

You whine, again looking back at him, eyes pleading.

“If you want it, ask. Ill give you whatever you want.” his eyes shooting something you couldn’t fully comprehend, a mix between malice and hunger.

“Please, make me cum” youre begging for it.

This is low for you, but hey, he said whatever you want.

“That was easy, wasn’t it?” the voice like silk, honey and whiskey, sends shivers up your spine.

The pressure and speed on your clit pairing so well with his cock impaling you sends you there.

And you let yourself go.

Screaming into climax, the pressure breaks you. You go limp in the water, your cunt tightening and pulsing around him.

He fucks you through the last of your climax and you’re grateful for the mercy he’d granted you.

Without warning, a hand placed on the back of your head shoves your head underwater, holding you there.

You gasp in shock, and you choke on a mouthful of water, sending it up your nose, into your lungs.

Writhing to get away, his iron grip holds you in place. Like he's not even trying. The tattoos in your skin flare white, a last resort attempt to save you.

Your body submerged, taking in water, choking on it. The only part of you safe is your lifted hips and its not like you can breathe from there..

It was sending him over the edge, you feel his cock twitch inside you, the warm liquid filling your insides, pulsing his load into you. He was going to kill you while he came.

This probably wasn’t the worst way to go.

Your consciousness fading, body limp and unmoving, the feeling of him fucking you through the rest of his orgasm ebbs away.

You succumb to the darkness around you to float off into a different dimension, everything goes black.

SIKE.

You cough, finally taking in air. Snot leaks out of your nose and you throw up.

All over the bathroom floor.

Excellent.

You’re lying on your side, chest heaving.

Looking up you see Hisoka sitting over you on the bathroom counter, murder flashing in your gaze.

“Ill admit I may have gone too far. My apologies.” He’s smiling down at you.

You’d give anything to wipe that fucking pleased look on his face on the floor right now. But as it were, you were soaking wet and naked, laying next to your puke.

In no position to attack.

You turn your cheek back to the cold tile floor, wishing he’d leave you there with your dignity.

Instead, he slides down from the counter, lifting you to carry you to your bed. Silently, you lift the covers over yourself, glaring at him.

You know your unspoken agreement meant possibly life threatening conditions, and the best dicking downs were the ones that got violent, but still.

You’re pissed.

Eyelids growing heavy, you decide none of the names you’d given him fit at the moment.

Right now he’s general dickhead of the asshole army.

You watch him sitting on the floor wearing only a bathtowel, one knee drawn into his chest, building his idiotic tower of cards.

In the morning, you’d rip every single one of them in half.

The creator warned you about sleeping in the bath but when it comes to fucking, anything goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are getting easier to write and I hope they’re getting better.  
> Im taking more time on each one to try and make the quality of the content better.  
> SEMI SOFT PSYCHOPATHIC BOI HISOKA.
> 
> I love u all sm, I appreciate every bit of your support.  
> Im so happy you guys like it too! 
> 
> Also I know the Hisoka in this fic isn't entirely accurate to the one in hunter x hunter, but this is the Hisoka I want to ruin me. Break my neck. Curbstomp my skull. Snap me like a glow stick.
> 
> Thank you my lovely demons for putting up w my shit!


	10. DJ KHaLED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter listening to Such A Whore (stellular remix) by Jvla on repeat.  
> Pls listen to it while reading.  
> The vibes are IMMACULATE.  
> *chefs kiss*
> 
> Fun fact: Im 100% atheist but like, i'll worship our lord and savior Hisoka any day.

He felt some form of remorse, you guess. He’d stayed through the night like usual, except this time he was still there when you woke.

He knew he’d crossed a line somewhere.

It was early in the morning, the warm light of dawn just beginning to creep over the horizon, painting the sky a baby pink.

He was asleep on the couch next to your bed, still wearing a bath towel, one arm placed over his chest to shield himself, the other hanging lazily over the side.

Now we could get into the psychology of the way he sleeps (because it really does tell you a lot about a person) but where’s the fun in that?

You think about drowning him as you watch him sleep.

Is this creepy?

Who cares.

You aren’t pissed anymore, you know its the nature of what the two of you do. The thrill of the promise of life, death, and the best orgasms of your lives kept you both coming back for more.

You’d get him back in time.

Plus, it honestly was a pleasure in its own just to watch him sleep.

He wasn’t dangerous in this state of being (maybe?).

You observe the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the steady monotonous pattern. You could disembowel him right here and now, but that wasn’t exactly a fair fight.

Then again, it seems like “fair” is off the table at this point.

His pink hair had dried straight, gently framing the sharp features on his face, his eyes darting beneath closed eyelids. Almost peaceful.

He had watched your life force as it had faded from you, and as much as he’d taken pleasure in that, there was still much to be done.

You consider ripping his cards like you’d said you would, instead deciding to let his keep his precious weapons for now. Maybe you like when he uses them on you.

Yep. Some sadomasochistic part of you fucking loves it.

Today you fight your 5th match, excitement courses through your veins. Of course, you were ready for this. It was your every thought, you live for the blood of the hunt.

Looking at him again, your chest tingles. He was powerful. Too powerful.

He should’ve been challenging the floor masters by now.

He was strong enough, he’d been on this floor longer than you, though you didn’t know how much longer. He could have ascended the 200th floor in a little over a week.

But here he was, on your couch, fighting only on the 90th day he was allowed between matches.

Why hadn’t he taken his own floor yet?

Never mind, you’re content on the same playing ground as him. He probably had nothing better to do.

And you’d seen enough of him for one day.

Concealing the sounds of your footprints as you try not to wake him, you slip into the bathroom to prepare for the day.

You pull on the tightest black spandex shorts and crop top you can find, your bare midriff on display, barely covering the name you carryin your skin. Running shoes tied tight, pulling the all black armored ensemble together.

Face washed, skin moisturized, teeth brushed, hair held together with a single braid running from your forehead all the way to the back of your part, the rest of your hair smoothed into your tight ponytail.

This is your favorite part. Getting ready to destroy. Preparing to let everything inside crush all that lies in sight.

-Bad Bitch Alert-

The eyes in the mirror study your own and you reach for white face paint, drawing intricate lines down over your forehead, the bridge of your nose , under your eyes.

The war paint would mimic the tattoos in your skin that glowed with every battle.

This is the girl in the reflection you love the most, wild eyes begging to be set free.

In the reflection you see the warrior, she grins at you with lips parted to reveal her pointed white canines. She grips the counter before lifting one delicate hand to curl a long finger towards you, beckoning you closer with a pointed nail.

She is you as you are her, the goddess inside materializing into existence.

You obey.

Leaning forward, you outstretch your hand to meet hers in the mirror.

Your palm makes cold contact with the glass, she smiles wider. Reaching through the mirror she laces her fingers through yours before climbing through the glass to rejoin your body.

You’ve never felt so fucking calm in your life, the white in your skin flares to life, brighter than you’ve ever seen, even your iris’s pulse with light.

You’re blessed in your purpose by the gods, and them alone.

Closing you eyes, you depart your room, leaving the old god sleeping inside behind, to appear in front of the hallway into the arena.

You know there’s a mass screaming around you as you strut forward, deaf to their cries.

The only sound is the steady marching of the heart beating inside your chest, echoing chants of divinity into your skull.

Tunnel vision takes over, you see nothing but your opponent standing in the ring opposite you.

He charges at you, and time slows. Your face splits into a terrifying grin..

You let your instincts take over.

Without moving, your aura rips open, tendrils of silver threading throughout, sending your opponent flying backwards. His head slams agains the concrete with a delicious crack, the sound like a symphony in your ears.

He stays down for a bit, and you’re awarded a point you could care less about.

You’re here for blood and his blood alone.

Rising slowly to his feet again, you feel the rage flowing off him.

Excellent.

You stand solid, waiting for his next pathetic attack. He does.

Careful to only use the amount of aura that the tower had seen, careful not to reveal yourself.

He was a basic user of nen, a weak one at that.

Somehow he must’ve thought his limited power meant he was something special. He was cocky. You would take that from him.

This was the ground you owned, the territory you defended.

He surges forward, faster this time and you laugh, the icy sound tearing at your lungs.

It was fucking time.

You’re behind him, in front of him, beside him, materializing in places in the ring he could never catch you in.

And you’re not even breaking a sweat.

The warrior inside pokes at you, begging for her turn.

You nod with a movement so small, only she could feel your permission to change places.

You don’t remember much from that point on, only seeing flashes of white and crimson spraying the air around you as you fade in and out of reality.

The crowd around you is silent when you come to, you’re standing over your adversary, baring your teeth at him.

His head was severed, eyes still twitching in his skull, blood everywhere.

Poor guy never had a chance.

But they never fail to make a mess do they?

~Somebody come get they mans.~

Looking down at your own body, you’re covered in his blood, covering your clothes, staining your skin.

You had earned this. Actually, you and your duality had earned this. You silently thank her for the victory, and she giggles inside you before shrinking away to sleep.

Tiredness begins to set in and you want to join her in her rest. It would be a few days of recovery this time, though you weren’t injured. Just drained.

You crave sushi, and you’d earned yourself a drink.

Aw yeah boiz. Sushi time.

Disappearing from the ring, you materialize in the long tunnel leading into the arena, sliding your back down the wall to sit alone in the dark.

You just need a few fucking moments of solace.

That you wouldn’t be granted.

The scars on your sternum throb in a way you hadn’t felt before. wut. FOR WHAT.

“That was quite a performance” Hisoka claps excitedly at you, striding out from his cover in the shadows.

“I do hope you’ll grant me the honor of fighting you soon, Id just love to break you..”

The words laced with greed as he licks at his lips.

You don’t have the energy for this. You roll your eyes.

“I gave a compliment, won’t you take it?” he chuckles down at you, eyes turned up at the corners.

This time it really didn’t look like he was there to cause you harm. Its not like you’d have the strength to defend yourself at the moment…but then again he tended to prey upon you when you were at your weakest.

Correct.

He stands over you, you shrink against the wall becoming a puddle on the floor. Where the fuck was your warrior when you needed her outside the ring..

Bringing a hand to cup your face, he strokes his thumb over your cheek. You’re bracing for pain.

“I quite like this on you” he references the braid, war paint, and blood soaking your skin.

Of fucking course he does. I mean, you do too, but like…. this was yours to revel in, not his.

He strokes long fingers against your jaw, you know exactly what this is and you’re on high alert, but you’re also too tired to fight it.

Wrenching your jaw open, he forces three fingers inside your mouth, pushing into your throat, you do your best to not to gag.

“So good..” he murmurs down at you, heat rushing between your legs.

Yep. You’re sick.

Therapy? _We don’t know her._

He palms his hardening length through his pants, keeping his other fingers in your throat.

You finally gag. He removes his fingers from your mouth and slaps you, stars popping in your vision.

Your mouth hanging open in shock and pain, and before you can register, his pants are down around his hips, his cock immediately forced into your mouth.

He withdraws for a moment, you take in a deep gasp of the sweet air you’re about to be deprived of, and he thrusts into your throat again.

His hips snap against your chin at a speed you can’t comprehend, cock bruising the back of your throat.

Welp at least this would be the only injury you took home from today.

Hisoka continues viciously fucking your skull, your eyes water, snot drips from your nose, drool leaks from the corners of your mouth.

Again, not your best look.

Pulling at your hair, forcing your eyes to his, he bites down on his lower lip to repress the primal sounds bubbling behind his teeth.

The thrusts become erratic and he’s close.

You place on hand on his hip, digging your nails in to draw blood, hearing him hiss. Reaching your other hand up, you cup at his balls, lightly massaging them as you feel him twitch in your mouth.

He grips your skull to hold you in place, thrusting so hard your jaw will most likely dislocate.

You’re 99.999999% sure.

He groans low, the sound transforming into an animalistic growl, hips shuddering as he releases into you, pouring stream after stream of salty sweet cum down your throat.

Pulling his cock from you, you gasp for air. Finally. Fucking air. You cough as you try and catch your breath.

Still holding your head, he wipes a drop of his cum that had escaped your lips to rub it on your tongue.

“There, you look so nice when you eat my cum,” his gaze seemed almost admiring, while he tucks his cock back into his pants.

Turning, he moves to walk away, calling over his shoulder,

“You've done so very well, i'll be waiting to give your reward later.”

And that right there is a double edged sword my friend.

He would either make you finish, try to kill you, or both. The possibilities are endless. He keeps you guessing.

A DJ of death.

_Im so sorry._

After sitting there a while longer, you pull yourself together enough to stand, to begin making your way out of the tunnel into the world again. Your head was pounding, body and mind screaming for you to just fucking stop and sleep already.

Eyes hazy, you barely notice the boys waiting for you at the end of the tunnel, jumping up and down with excitement.

“That was AMAZING!” Gon almost screams up at you.

You look down at him, managing out a “Thank you”.

Your voice was gone.

So it turns out that “fucking your throat raw” wasn’t just a figure of speech.

Your voice was hoarse from horse cock.

_Goodbye. Ill be ending my life now._

“What took you so long?” Killua was too smart for his own good. He knew that you’d been held up, it wasn’t like you to linger in any space for an extended length of time unless it was the training room or your own. This time he let you keep your answer to yourself.

“You boys hungry?”

The question stops their excited chattering in its tracks, their eyes glazing over at the mention of food.

“Ill take that as a yes” laughing, you drag yourself to the lobby, the boys trailing closely behind.

It didn’t matter to them that you’re soaked in blood, they were preoccupied with the smell of their impending meals emanating from the restaurants nearby.

Humans truly are simple creatures.

“Come on! Stop drooling, lets go!” urging them forward.

The boys snap out of their trance and dash into the nearest restaurant.

Soon after, you’re sitting awkwardly on the couch in Gons room, the boys on either side of you slurping noisily at their ramen.

They were completely riveted by whatever was on tv, so zoned out that Gon missed his mouth a few times while eating, sloshing soup over his shirt.

You snicker.

A tall unfamiliar man bursts through the door, and you freeze. His gold framed circular glass flash in your direction.

“Hi Leorio!” Gon bounces up to greet him.

“Whos she?” ignoring Gon, to glare sharply in your direction.

“Thats ~insert name here~, she helps us with training!”

Leorios intense gaze softens, immediately shifting to concern.

Ah yes.

You’re still coated in blood, war paint streaked with tears.

And snot.

Excellent first impression.

“Are you hurt?” Referencing the bloodsoaked-you on the couch.

He was worried. Why? What did he have to gain?

“Oh no,” you reply, motioning to the blood crusted to your body, “this isn’t mine, I borrowed it from a friend.”

The boys giggle, resuming the slurping at their noodles.

Evening turns into the black of night and you’re content for the time being. The boys had fallen asleep draped over the arms of the couch, snoring softly.

Leorio has his nose so deep in a book, you wonder if it'd gotten stuck there.

Probably.

Maybe this little group bore you no threat, so you stay a little longer.

Your eyes stick to the crackling fire in the mantle place underneath the tv, the flames dance before your eyes, ensnaring you in their movements.

You’re transfixed as they draw you in, so quiet that their chorus of whispers is barely audible. Voices you knew, voices you didn’t know, calling, screaming, crying to you. Still barely audible.

Maybe its the tiredness in your bones and your brain weighing you down, but maybe it wasn’t.

You’re torn away from the flames by the scars at your chest.

They’re pulsating beneath your skin again.

You understand now.

Time to claim your reward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck we're 10 chapters deep already. This is gonna b a wild ride bc I have planned SO MANY different ways for Hisoka to blow your back out.  
> I'm also a little worried this chapter will flop bc it has more character development and a little less of Hisoka ruining you.  
> Lmk what you think of this one!
> 
> More fucking less fighting?  
> Or is the balance ok?
> 
> Ive never written anything long like this before so I have 0 fucking clue, im just glad you guys are here for the ride!
> 
> Also, Im taking a break on saturday, ill be uploading chapter 11 on sunday! Love u all and see u all then!!


	11. ~FATALITY~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You ASKED FOR DOM READER AND DOM READER YOU SHALL RECEIVE.  
> I was taking a short break bc my ~not commit die~ pills were making me tired and loopy for a few days so I owe you guys a disgusting porny chapter.  
> Also her full nen ability reveal will be $OON.
> 
> ALSO if u want my socials lmk

When you’d fully awakened, you were on Gons couch.

Dust, cups, and clothing had accumulated on and around you….. jesus fuck… so like… you had slept slept..

And they’d used you as a table?

Ah what’s fair is fair, its not like they could’ve woken you in that state.

You’d gone for a ~ _light coma_ ~.

Gons room was empty and your clothes were super glued to your body with old blood.

Super sick.

Taking advantage of the empty room, you decide a long shower is the best route.

You attempt to peel your clothes off, but when they refuse to part with your skin, you decide ripping your only clothing in the room is not the best idea.

You sit on the shower floor, the scalding water finally frees you from your blood crusted clothes.

Noice.

You’d become accustomed to seeing the red river on the shower flood, (insert parting the red sea joke here idk)

and every time it seems to cleanse you of your sins. Your hands were once again clean of the legal murder you’d partaken in.

After what seems feels like an eternity, the water falling over you and the clothes sitting next to you run clear again.

Clean.

Cleansed.

Excellent timing.

The hot water had almost run cold, the mirror and the shower glass were completely fogged over, and the ceiling was dipping with condensation.

You drag your waterlogged ass out of the shower, doing your best to towel dry both yourself and your sopping wet clothing.

This effort is futile.

You tug on your clothes (putting on tight wet clothes is a fucking disgusting feeling), slip on your shoes, and head out.

_-aight. imma head out-_

Luckily, you’re on the same floor as your own room and the path to dry clothing is a relatively short one.

Finally having made it to your room, you pull on boxers, a tank top and the knee high fuzzy pink socks you’d bought from your outing days back.

Right before stupid pink man had made another half assed assassination attempt.

Sick.

Fully dry and in cozy pajamas, you snuggle deep into your massively luxurious bed.

You’re an olive toned spot in a sea of crisp white pillows and blankets, laying in wait, ready to claim the reward you’d earned.

Waiting for him to come to you, waiting for your scars to pulse again.

But he doesnt, and they dont.

You’re becoming impatient and night had already fallen. You’re dangerously close to sleep again, but that needed to wait for a bit.

You pry yourself away from the warm cocoon of blankets, treading to your doorway to step into the hallway.

Staring at his door, #44 across the hall from your #38, you frown.

He had his own place, why the fuck was his presence constantly plaguing yours?

Selfish ass.

Selfish boxer stealing ass.

Soup stealing bitch.

He never knocked, so neither will you.

REMIX.

You close your eyes and materialize in his dark room.

He wasn’t here but you’d sensed this already.

TIME FOR A LIL SNEAKY SNEAKY INVESTIGATION.

aaaaaaaand you’re disappointed.

His room is identical to yours, and had no sign that anyone had lived there.

Like ever.

His bed was untouched, tables bare, bathroom devoid of any human life.

Ugh. You sink down onto his couch, biding your time, planning your attack.

It felt like hours passed and it was fucking tiring fully concealing your aura for so damn long.

You’d almost given up, but then you felt it.

The scars in your chest tugging you towards the door.

You leap up, running to stand silently with your back against the door, waiting.

The door finally opens and Hisoka strides through its frame, turning on the light as he enters the room.

You stand behind the open door, careful not to reveal yourself until its closed again.

Finally. Fucking finally.

The second the door clicks shut, you race toward him, his back to you.

Sweeping his legs out from under him with a swift movement, he falls backwards onto the floor with a sickening thud.

And you narrowly avoid being taken down with his

long

legged

bitch

ass

self.

You bring a fuzzy sock covered foot to rest on his neck as he stares up at you with heavily lidded eyes twinkling with delight at being outplayed.

With absolutely no effort against your foot on his adams apple, he asks

“So, where’ve you been?” his tone light and inquiring.

“A coma, the usual”,

Your response does nothing to shake the tranquil look from his face.

You want to curbstomp him in his stupid fucking handsome skull.

“And where have you been?” hissing down at him,

he replies with a sweet “oh you know, more killing, per usual.”

Red flashes in your vision, you’re territorial, and you realize this.

Not in the monogamy way, you don’t give a fuck if he’s fucking someone else. Im talking like territory like the lion hunts the antelope.

(ive watched way too much planet earth this week.)

You’re territorial in the way that you would be the sole person to end his existence, drain his sweet metallic blood from his body, watch the life fade from those enticing golden eyes.

“How do you find me constantly?” your voiced cracking with the question that had weighed heavily on your mind for minutes, hours, days. You had theories, but you were scared to finally hear the truth.

“Hmm…..Thats simple enough”

“The night I carved you open, I gave your scars a small amount of my nen, much like your tattoos have. Now, I can sense wherever you are whenever I want. I even knew you were here tonight.” he says with a nonchalant smile.

Your blood ran cold, your element of surprise had been rendered useless. He had let you take him down.

But then, another thought.

He was territorial too for the same reason, he needed to know you weren’t dead so he could do it himself.

The realization of this brings heat to your belly.

You press your foot down harder on his throat, before removing it.

“Stay the fuck down” you command.

He nods silently back at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You kneel beside him and with two sharp fingernails, you pierce his shirt, tearing his shirt slowly open, nails digging into him all the way down, drawing blood.

First freeing him from his shirt, you set to work at his pants, slicing them away to reveal his already hardened cock. You take the warm length in your hand, squeezing it, cutting off the blood supply as he groans between his teeth.

Fully clothed still - You straddle him, pinning his arms under your knees as you begin to grind on him, sliding your boxer-covered pussy up and down his face, bucking your clit against his chin.

He struggles underneath you, attempting to lick through the cotton separating your soaking cunt from his tongue.

You lean back for a moment to slap him hard, hearing his teeth clack together.

Giggling, you step off of him to strip yourself free of your pajamas. Boxers and shirt removed, you return to your place over him.

His arms held down by your knees again, you lean to make eye contact with him.

His eyes communicate a primal, animalistic need that you’d only seen in yourself before.

Perfect.

“You have one purpose tonight,” your voice dripping with seduction, “You will make me cum until I tell you otherwise.”

You stroke a finger across his milky smooth skin, like he had to you so many times, before slapping the ever living shit out of him again.

“Do you understand?”

He nods up at you, groaning as you hover over his lips, so so close to tasting your sweet pussy.

You remove your knees from his arms to give him some limited range of movement.

Finally you sink onto his face, his tongue immediately plunging into your folds, lapping at slit between your legs, hands grabbing at your thighs and ass cheeks, squeezing, drawing blood with his nails.

Your legs tremble as his tongue makes contact with your clit, licking letters in cursive on your sensitive bud. You shiver, cunt twitching as he licks away at you like you’re the only meal he’s had in years. Focusing on his movements, you feel it. Motherfucker was tracing his name onto your clit over and over and over, so many times you lose count.

Before you can brace yourself, a long finger pushes through your opening to begin thrusting into you, tongue still working against your clit. Gasping and shaking, you’re becoming a mess over him, your hand snakes through his soft pink hair, wrenching his perfect face up to your cunt.

You twitch around the finger working into you as he increases the pressure of his tongue on your clit.

Holy fucking shit you’re close. Whimpering his name, your voice cracking with pleasure, he urges you forwards towards climax. You clench as he lets out a low moan, the vibrations concentrated on your clit make you snap. His tongue continues working away at you as you’re torn from realty screaming his name, your veins on fire plunged into ecstasy. You fall forward, and he catches you with one hand while continuing to pull you through the rest of your climax as he licks away at you.

You come down to earth just in time to catch him from trying to roll onto you, and you pin him down again.

“Did I tell you to move?”

He shakes his head no, eyes glazed over with lust and greed. The star and teardrop on his cheeks were faded from the friction of his face between your legs.

“Good” you purr down at him, reaching between your legs to gather some of the wetness from between your legs, you grasp his achingly hard member in your hand, already dripping with precum. You massage your slickness onto his cock,

he shudders, bucking his hips into your hand.

Your eyes are locked onto his as you continue stroking his length, torturously slow, taking your time to slowly lead him to the precipice of his climax before leaving him hanging there at the edge. And he wasn’t happy about it.

Pull a lil uno reverse card on him.

He's laying beneath you almost writhing, begging to be helped over the edge.

An eye for an eye. Wayment. Speaking of an eye for an eye…. your eyes flash with an idea so evil that it might just suit him.

Except you wouldn’t use your ability to tie him down, that was a cheap move.

Instead, you step off of him.

“Up. To the bed.” you command him again, he obeys. He moves to his bed, laying down as you peel off your knee high fuzzy pink socks.

You straddle his chest, tying his hands together overhead with one fuzzy sock, using the other to tie his bound hands to the headboard.

Sitting back, you admire your handiwork, knowing at this very second the god underneath you would do absolutely fucking anything to please you.

He struggles against his binds, the needy look in his eye is the most delicious thing you’ve ever seen.

“An eye for an eye” you lean down and whisper into his ear, running your tongue behind his ear, tracing his jawline, down his neck, licking away the beads of sweat forming on his skin. He trembles, your warm mouth on him sends shockwaves through his body, every nerve sensitive to your movements.

Leaning back to survey the old god between your legs, you trace your sharp talons over his silky smooth flesh.

You can smell the need leaking off him, his pheromones make your head swim.

Finally, you reach for his right arm, grasping his wrist, turning it gently over in your hands.

Its your turn.

You sink a sharp claw into his flesh. You don’t have his cards, you have no need for them, your talons would suffice.

Blood accumulates under your nail as his eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream of pleasure.

He fucking loves it.

You slowly drag your nail through his skin, pulling forth tiny streams of crimson blood from his flesh.

You would brand him as he branded you.

You set to work, drawing lines into his skin from his wrist to his shoulder, mimicking the tattoos on your own.

If you’re going to carry his burden, he would do the same.

You both had quite literally gotten under each others skin.

As you tear through his flesh, he’s panting under you, unable to slow his breathing, pleasure wracking his bones.

You admire the red lines in his skin. With these, he was more beautiful than he’d ever been.

You look down, debating carving your name above his cock. You decide on it, and you draw blood again slicing your name into his pelvis. His breathing ragged, his eyes roll back. This masochistic fuck was was getting off on this.

Perfect.

His chest heaves under you, the rise and fall urging you through to your next attack.

Cutting away his binds, you lift his right hand to you, pressing it to your lips in a soft kiss, rewarding his obedience.

Keeping his hand in yours, you dismount him to step off the bed, pulling him with you, leading him in front of his floor to ceiling window, his back to the city below.

You stand looking up at him for a moment, taking in his towering height, sweat drenched skin, soft lips pleading for attention to his cock.

You were going to fuck him in front of your favorite view.

Hooking your fingers around the back of his neck, you force him down to meet your lips with his, flicking your tongue into his mouth, he groans at the taste of you.

“On your knees” you whisper onto his tongue before breaking from him.

Immediately he drops to kneel before you.

“Such an obedient boy.. beg for it.”

You’d strip him of his pride as well, and he begs. He pleads for release, for your tight warm cunt, all the while golden eyes refuse to waver from your gaze.

Reaching for you, he wraps his arms around you, faced pressed to the skin on your bare stomach, hands placed at the small of your back.

Your hand wraps around his neck, slamming him into the floor to ceiling window behind him.

And it cracks, leaving spider web like patterns in the glass behind his body all the way out to the corners of the window.

From this you learn two things:

  1. The window glass is way more fragile than it should be.
  2. Nice.



At least this wasn’t your room, and your favorite window is still intact.

His wouldn’t be for long.

“Lay down.”

He silently moves to the floor, laying on his back.

Perfect.

You slam your fist into the window, and it explodes from the sheer force.

Shards of glass fly outwards, raining down, shimmering like diamonds as they fall quietly to the city below.

There were no sounds save for the howling of the wind, now free from obstruction, whipping through Hisokas room.

Seizing the opportunity, you push him forward, his head hanging over the edge of the window.

He struggles, fighting to get away from imminent death, but you’ve pinned him in place.

His cock is harder than ever.

You kneel on him again, sliding your cunt back and forth over him, lubricating his length with the wetness between your legs, as he hums through his teeth.

“Look at me” you whisper at him, he lifts his head to hold your gaze as you line the tip of his cock with your soaking entrance, you lower yourself onto him.

Millimeter by millimeter, taking more of him inside you, feeling both pain and ecstasy.

It hurts the same every time, you’ll never get used to the feeling of his cock so thick and long it threatens to tear you in half as you sink onto it, filling you completely.

Fully impaled on his length, he twitches inside you.

A small moan escapes your lips as you lift yourself up, before dropping back down onto his cock, you ride him.

Knowing he’s so completely at your mercy intensifies the pleasure rushing through you, you bounce on his cock, drawing low growls from him.

You pause, lifting your feet from where you’re kneeling on the floor, placing them behind you on his ripped thighs to give you a better angle to fuck him at.

Hisoka grasps at your hips, guiding your pace as you ride the absolute fuck out of him. You reach between your legs to rub soft circles on your clit all the while taking him deeply inside you. Your pussy tightens at the added intensity, and his head falls back, neck hanging over the edge of the window again.

He's close.

The fear of falling and your pussy gripping his cock is sending him closer to an earth shattering climax.

You giggle. He’d behaved and you’d reward him with what he needed.

Speeding up the circles on your clit, you tense, ready for what was to come (lol u).

And you fall, unraveling around his cock, legs shaking uncontrollably, screaming out his name as you cum for the second time tonight.

He takes over, fucking you through your climax as your soul ascends.

( _dick so good you’ve astral projected_ ).

Regaining your composure, you ride him hard again, fucking him at a pace you knew would be too much for the old god to handle, pushing him to his edge.

He snaps, body tensing as he pumps warm cum into you, hot ropes painting your insides with his load. While he’s paralyzed in the waves of his own euphoria, you lift yourself off him, pinning his hands down, his cock still twitching out cum onto his ripped stomach, helpless.

You lips split into a soulless grin.

For the grand finale - you’d try out a new position on him, one you hadn’t done before, named “dying god”.

And you push him over the edge of the window.

You lean over to watch his body disappear from view into the night below, while his cum drips out from inside you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AW SHIT A CLIFFHANGER.  
> hes not dead lol there’d be no fun in that.  
> ~fucking the ghost of hisoka~ is a no from me.  
> Im planning on posting chapter 12 tomorrow bbys.  
> I love u all more than life.


	12. BungeeCum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things r about to get ~really weird~.
> 
> Dom reader will return in the next few chapters after this!

As you watch the old god disappear into the darkness below, the scar in your chest throbs.

Throbbing turns into burning, white hot fire searing your chest, engulfing your organs in flame, you’re blinded by the pain threatening to slice you in half.

Unable to brace yourself, you stumble as the scars pull you forward, out the window, down into the dark.

You’re face down, free falling.

The descent seems to take eons. This is what you get for getting even. You silently curse yourself.

Your attempts to summon your hatsu fail, you can’t even escape to safety. The scars in your chest are holding you there, pulling you down faster by an unseen force..

You close your eyes and surrender to it, making peace with your free fall, you’d see your father soon. Maybe he’d even be proud of who you’ve become, but the blood on your hands make you somewhat doubtful of this. Also, you’re going to die naked.

0% proud of that.

Falling faster and faster into the darkness ….. until you stop, bouncing in place, your skin threatening to tear from your chest with the force of your sudden halt.

Opening your eyes, you’re dangling in the open air only halfway down the tower.

You attempt to scream, but the wind strips the sound from your throat as you’re slowly pulled up. To where?

Craning your neck to look up behind you, you see it. A flash of pink hair on a balcony.

He wasn’t dead, and neither were you.

You’d live to fuck another day.

But still, he was going to be SO PISSED.

Finally reeling you up to dangle adjacent to the balcony, he looks at you with wonder, observing your limbs flailing helplessly in the air.

Like he’d just caught a fish.

A human sized, naked, terrified, carnivorous fish.

Reaching for you, he lifts you over the edge of the balcony, placing you down against the rails, to steadying you with one hand, backhanding you with the other.

Your mind swims from the impact of his hand on your face, the adrenaline coursing through your body numbs the pain.

You grin, the blood in your mouth painting your teeth pink.

“Well that was quite extreme wasn’t it?” he grins back at you.

Your brain still unable to form a coherent thought, you say nothing.

“And… that wasn’t very fair”

“Fair was off the table a long time ago, right after you tried to drown me” you spit blood at him.

“Hm… i suppose you’re right.”

You’d just tried to kill him, and *almost* (maybe?) succeeded.

He absolutely lived up to the name you’d given him.

Old God.

You can’t think of a single person who would have worked their way out of that fall.

Then again you can’t really think at all right now.

He’s speaking to you again and you pull yourself out of your head, focusing on his lips moving, attempting to make out the words.

“Im sorry, what?”

He sighs impatiently and repeats himself. “You've proven yourself quite the challenge, my 10th match is in two weeks. Id love to crush you if you’re so inclined.”

You’re stunned by the question. “Why?”

This seems to throw him off. His face becomes serious for just a second before returning to his constant state of smirking.

“Because! It’ll be fun. You’ve impressed me with your overwhelming desire for revenge. Plus, if you win, i'll just fight someone else. You have nothing to lose.”

You know there’s something terrifying lurking underneath his lighthearted tone but still you’re intrigued. “I accept. On two conditions.”

“Oh? And they are?” his smooth voice makes your thoughts fuzzy.

“One, you will train me. Two, you quit stealing my fucking boxers. Three, you buy me sushi.”

“I thought there were only two conditions” he chuckles softly.

“Things change. You buy me sushi or I’m out.” you snap at him.

“Hm…. fair is fair,” his smirk slightly parting as he licks his lips, “I accept as well.”

“Thank you.” He looks at you with surprise before replying “What for?”

“Uh. I guess for not letting me become a fucking splatter of blood on the ground.” Almost gagging on the words. Apologies and admitting defeat are not your strong suit.

“I told you I wouldn’t kill you yet. Besides, were not even close to being done here. So you’re welcome. And sorry in advance.”

His smirk turns into a malicious grin.

The words put you on edge again, fear wraps its icy grip around your heart.

“Wha..?” you gasp as he throws you forward against the rail of the balcony, your head slammed forward to face the city below you.

If you screamed, no one would hear you.

You feel him wrapping your hair around his fist, before he yanks your head back to his chest, to whisper low in your ear

“You said I was to make you cum until you say otherwise. You haven’t said otherwise.”

Your eyes fly wide open as you’re lifted up, your torso hanging over the railing, held in place by his grip on your hair and… his pink sticky aura tightly wrapped around your neck.

You’re choking again. Surprise surprise.

Shaking your head furiously, unable to look back at him you try to communicate

NO holy fucking shit NO you’re too tired for this. You’d had more than enough for one night.

“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you, you might slip and fall” His words weren’t a suggestion, you’re no longer in power here.

You have no choice in the matter.

He reaches between your legs, cum still dripping from between them, he gathers what’s left of it on his fingers to push the sticky liquid back inside you.

Sparing no time, he moves his touch to your clit, and you let out a muffled yelp at the contact.

His fingers work at your clit, hard and merciless. Your legs shake, three orgasms in one night might make you pass the fuck out.

But I mean…. why tf are you complaining? Any girl that wanted to fuck Hisoka would murder you to be in your position right now.

You relax, surrendering to the old god.

“Good girl..” you hear from behind you, pressure building deep in your belly.

Your pussy clenches, feeling the absence of him inside you, craving for his length to fill you again.

It wouldn’t.

The pressure on your clit increases, your body tenses. And your brain goes silent, your vision marred by bright lights, body shaking, almost thrown over the edge over the balcony by the strength of your climax.

Hisoka holds you still while the waves of your orgasm crash against your insides, screaming into the dark.

Finally your insides calm, you’re weak, trying to catch your breath.

Not an easy feat, seeing as his aura is still tightly wrapped around your neck.

“Let me go” you choke out, hoping he’d hear you against the raging wind.

He’d heard you.

“I don’t think I will. You haven’t said otherwise.”

The aura around your throat tightens, forcing you silent. If you wanted to say otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to now.

Hisoka returns you to the floor of the balcony, still leaning forward over the edge, but at least you’ve got solid ground beneath your feet again. And you’re fucking grateful for that.

Momentary peace is ripped from you as a hand grips your right leg, just under the knee. The hand lifts your leg, your foot placed just over the edge of the balcony, forcing your legs open.

Oh fuck.

He rly said _anotha one_.

The grip on your hair is released and fall forwards, catching yourself by the balcony rails. Next to your foot. Thank fuck you’re flexible, it came in handy sometimes.

;—)

Old god positions himself underneath you, kneeling on the floor with his back to the rails, you watch with tears forming in your eyes.

Never breaking eye contact, he plunges his tongue into you, nudging your clit with his nose. You choke on a scream, you’re tired, so fucking tired.

“I cant, can’t, I… I can’t… can’t” you plea to the god under you, your cries falling on deaf ears.

You shake your head, tears falling down your cheeks as Hisoka moves to lick at your clit, his tongue replaced with two fingers inside you.

“Cant, can’t, can’t, can’t” your sobs becoming a stream of chants, the words slurring together lose their meaning.

He pauses momentarily, “You can, and you will,” he hums against your pussy, your overstimulated clit begging for mercy.

Instead, he works at you harder, fingers curling in you, increasing speed. He alternates between licking and lightly nipping your clit as you sob. You don’t want this, you can’t take this. But he’s pushing you again to climax.

You fight against it, holding back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another climax taken from you.

You can’t, and he wins. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, blackness threatening at the corners of your vision, and you're plunged into a mind bending orgasm. Your strength is sapped from you, unable to hold yourself up, you fall against the rail as you cum. He catches you, holding you still as you writhe in his iron grip, forcing the rest of your climax out of you, the juices from your insides dripping down his chin.

He releases you, sliding out from under you and you go to collapse to the floor. But you’re held in place again. Mother F u C K.

He wasn’t done yet. And you can’t take more.

Hes behind you again, hair yanked back into his grasp, he leans to your ear “Be good. Just one more.”

“CANT” you scream out, silenced again by the force around your throat.

You’re pleading internally as he forces your back down, bringing your hips to his, positioning himself behind you.

You sigh with relief, this is something you can handle. At least you could hold off another climax this way, as long as he came before you. You can focus on that.

He slams into you with force that could throw you over the rails, but you hold on tight just a bit longer.

He pounds into you violently, pain searing through you, still sore and used from fucking him earlier. Gritting your teeth, you take it, visualizing how you’d chop off his dick to keep as a souvenir after you’d killed him.

You’re ripped from your safe haven of thoughts back to reality as you feel him working again on your swollen clit.

But his hands were on your hips.

“what the fuu.…?” you manage to squeak out.

He lets out a breathy laugh, broken with a low moan, continuing to rail you against the rails.

Heh.

You feel a finger on your hip moving in faster circles, the circles on your clit matching its pace.

Eyes open wide, it hits you. Bungee-gum.

On your.… holy fucking mother of shit god damn god damn motherfuck.

Heat pools in your belly again and you grin, choking back sobs and screams of his name.

Your body betrays you, for the fucking 10000th time in one night.

He growls and increases his pace both inside you and on your swollen clit.

Gasping, your breathing ragged and broken, you’re melting from the inside into a puddle on the floor.

That he’s balls deep in.

Old god slams into you as you pulse around his cock, forcing out your 5th climax of the night.

Lights out. Your brain warps, your legs go numb.

Head empty. Pussy stuffed.

Screaming his name into the void, along with a strong of incoherent noises, your voice cracking from the strain.

The aura hold on your sensitive bud releases, his thrusts becoming hurried, relentless, violent. And you feel him plunge into his own climax, pulsing more sticky cum into your cunt. Groaning into the night, he fills you, thrusting through his orgasm.

Finally released from his hold, you collapse onto the floor, your legs unable to support you. Never has a cold floor felt so comfortable.

Yep.

You’ll sleep right here.

His voice forces your heavy eyelids open, watching him standing over you, STILL fucking smirking, “There, I think were done now, don’t you?”

You nod weakly up at him, you’re too tired to put together words.

“Very good..” his voice becoming distant.

And that’s your cue.

Your eyes close, mind and body spent.

Strong arms pick you up, and you’re moving again. You have no idea as to where, and also, you could care less.

Nothing matters anymore except sleep.

You drift off, not sure if you’re alive or dead.

If you’re alive - sick.

If you’re dead - he’s going to hell and you’re riding shotgun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ive figured out posting a chapter a day isn't rly sustainable so I've come up w a schedule.  
> Ill be posting new chapters:  
> Mondays  
> Wednesdays  
> Fridays  
> Sundays 
> 
> I hope to keep that schedule once my semester starts back up again!
> 
> Also we've made it this far and I love u. I'm so grateful you guys keep reading. I had no idea id have such wonderful ppl reading and supporting me! 
> 
> Does ur back hurt? From carrying this team?  
> ILYSM


	13. sOmEBodY TOucHa mY SPaghEt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AND WELCOME BACK.  
> This one has 0 porn. Sometimes it gotta b like that.
> 
> My older sister found my fic today, so everyone pls welcome her.  
> HI ELIZABETH! IM SORRY!!!!

You love it. Waking up sore, tired, alive. Never do you feel more alive than when you’re in pain. It reminds you that as powerful you are, how strong, how fast, how intelligent you are, you’re human. You’re fallible. It humbles you.

Even volcanoes have to rest between explosions.

Stretching your limbs, you look around. You’re sprawled haphazardly across your couch. At least he was nice enough to dump you here.

Assessing the pain in your body, you decide you’re fine.

Mostly.

Your chest feels like the skin has been peeled, tugged and thrown around. Which it has.

But still you’re alive. Your knees are weak, but you’d survived another night.

Maybe you’d have to be more discreet about the whole attempted murder thing. Maybe.

Doubtful.

Closing your eyes, you scan the room with your senses for anyone lurking within.

Sighing deeply, you determine you’re alone. You let your guard down, just for a bit.

Its SHOWER TIME, and you head straight for the bathroom.

You wait for the water to warm with 0 no need to strip down, you’re still naked from last night. The cold air from the bathroom raises goosebumps on your flesh as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

You look like shit, but you’re happy. When was the last time you thanked your body for bringing you this far?

A while. Today, you’d take care of yourself.

Though you’re a soul, an energy, a light entity in a human body, you still have to honor the earthly vessel that brought you here.

Stepping into the shower, you decide all 3 shower heads would do today.

You take yourself too fucking seriously. All the damn time.

Just fucking relax, you’ve come this far at 23?

You’re still just a baby. A scary, strong, adult baby.

But your soul feels older, much older with what you’ve been through. Do all 23 year old girls worry about dying at any given time? Probably not. But its all you know.

Sometimes you dream of another life, a different path, back at home on your perfect island with your mother and sisters.

You left to see the world, and on every continent you searched for a place of equal beauty. You never found one, so you found the masters instead.

Every choice you’ve made in your life, led here, to this moment.

To the best shower of your damn life.

You could’ve chosen many different paths along the way. But you’re here, now.

Dancing in the shower.

With a smile so wide it threatened to split your face into two separate pieces.

The happiness you feel fills your entire being, barely contained by the barriers of your skin.

Washing your hair and body normally feels like a chore - a waste of time.

Here, today, you rejoice in the simple tasks that keep you grounded.

The shower walls fog over from the humidity in the room, and on the glass you write the words you won’t speak.

You write to your mother, sisters, your masters, the people who meant the most to you, who shaped you into who you are.

Simple sentences turn into paragraphs and essays, each wall devoted to a different person.

Lastly, you write to yourself. The largest wall fills with your deepest fears, victories, loves, regrets, and the things about you that scare you the most.

You stand back and watch as the words fog over, before disappearing completely.

These words are safe here, the sadness of these internalized words tugs at your chest.

Finishing, you feel raw with the emotion you rarely allowed yourself to feel.

It weighs down on you.

Sitting on the shower floor, you finally cry.

Crying was shameful, tears are weakness.

But you’ll allow yourself this here, where the water can wash you free of everything inside you.

Sobs wrack your small frame, shaking your shoulders.

The cries come from somewhere deep inside you, in your bones, in your chest, in your lungs.

Salty tears mix with the shower water, snot leaking out your nose, you finally calm your breathing.

oooooh boy. Too many emotions for one day.

You step out of the shower to wrap yourself in a fluffy white towel, dripping water onto the cold tile floor beneath your feet.

Brushing your teeth, washing your face, moisturizing, fighting with your hair to brush out the tangles, you feel peace again.

Inspecting yourself in the reflection, you’re pleased with what you see. Next on the agenda? No idea.

Pondering your next move for the day, you zone out for god knows how long.

Plunged back into reality by a hand on the back of your skull, slamming your forehead into the mirror in front of you.

Brilliant.

The glass shatters, you shut your eyes and summon Ken to keep the damage from the shards to a minimum. Still, you can feel a trickle of blood sliding down from your scalp.

“Good.. but not quite fast enough.” the voice you know so well from behind you.

You sigh, not angry. Just annoyed.

“Cant I have one day to myself?” you speak into the broken glass.

“Im afraid not. I said i’d train you, and we’ll do this my way.”

“Fine. Can you let me go now?” you grouch at him, blood leaking into your mouth.

He releases his grip on your skull and silently backs away to sit cross legged on the edge of the tub as you turn around.

You lean your back against the edge of the counter, staring at the old god.

Stupid tall big pink man.

You can’t catch a damn break.

You gaze at each other for some amount of time before you finally break the silence.

“The night I saved your life… who gave you those injuries?”

The question makes him visibly tense.

“I know it wasn’t Gon, he’s not nearly strong enough to injure you that badly.” you continue.

He studies you without a word.

Again silence fills the room, heavy with your question.

After some time, he finally speaks.

“…it was someone from the past.”

“ok…? and? who was it?”

“An old friend.”

Screw this vague man. Those are the only answers you’ll get and you know it.

And you know better than to press him.

You turn your back to him, searching for your reflection in the fragments of the mirror to clean the blood off your face.

He’d been here. It's annoying how good he is at sneaking up on you.

……….. There’s a very large possibility he witnessed you dance. Or cry.

Ick.

If he was planning on training you today, he’d snuck up on you and smashed your face to scare you. If you hadn’t analyzed this, you would’ve been mentally shaken all day, it would be easier to beat you into submission during training.

Stupid pink man thought he was slick with that shit.

Ignoring him, you enter the bedroom for some clothes.

Shirt: located.

Shorts: located.

Shoes: ….? Somehow located behind the couch??

When tf did you put those there?

Anyways.

You tread back to the bathroom, Hisoka hasn’t moved a muscle since you’d left.

His eyes are closed, you guess he’d been sensing you moving throughout your room.

More ick.

“Are we going?” you sigh at him, doing your best to hide the annoyance in your tone.

“mmm… my thoughts exactly.”

He was annoyed at you for taking so long to get ready.

Men rly just don’t get it.

~Perfection takes time~

He stands, moving out of the bathroom to the front door. Obviously you’re supposed to follow him.

You loathe walking behind anyone. Even if it is Hisoka.

He exits the room, with you trailing behind at a safe distance, down the hallway, to the elevator, inside the elevator.

You stand side by side. Well, not exactly side by side. More like his shoulder to the top of your head. You’d never considered your height to be a disadvantage, but today…….. shit might change a little.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance up at him.

His face impassive, staring straight ahead,

tall as hell,

long as fuck.

Oh my god.

Thats a _big bitch._

Reaching the training floor, the two of you exit the elevator to find an empty training room. This time, you’re halfway grateful you're not leading. You have to devise a plan.

Ok so

He’s going to train you.

So you can fight him.

Which means you can’t risk showing your full ability because if he knows it, he’ll beat you that much faster during the match.

But then how are you supposed to fight him while you train?

He could very easily end your existence if you’re playing weak.

Plus, that’d mean if you weren’t using your full power, he wouldn’t either.

Which means you’d never learn his ability.

What a fucking contradiction.

Last time you’d trained with him;

  1. You’d learned nothing.
  2. He’d still beaten you. 



Sick.

“I have a request.”

“Hmm?” He stops walking to peer down at you as you catch up to him.

“I suggest we work solely on basic hand to hand combat today, we can work up to fighting with nen later.”

“Thats not a bad idea..”

You silently celebrate your victory. This victory at least, you’re not sure of the outcome waiting behind the doors of the training room. This would delay the inevitable, but you’d have more time to come up with a better strategy.

You start walking again, leaving him standing there.

“Don't think I'm not aware of your plan.” he calls after you.

You want to freeze right there, the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. Your legs feel like they’re made of lead, but if you’re going to keep up this act you have to keep moving forward.

So you do.

FUCK.

WHAT DOES HE MEAN.

shitshitshitshitshit.

You disappear behind the doors of an empty training room, waiting for him.

He does, locking the door behind him.

Ohhhhhhh NO.

Not good.

0% safe.

So much for taking care of yourself today.

From across the room he calls out “No weapons.”

“Then you’ll have to take these off me” you point to your arms, giggling.

“Mm… Dont tempt me.”

…Maybe you shouldn’t have used that exact wording.

WORTH IT.

“I do hope you’ll be more of a challenge this time.”

This twists at your guts, lighting fire in your chest again.

Gods, he pisses you the fuck off sometimes.

Fine fine fine. It's only combat today. You wouldn’t have to hold back with this.

But also, maybe fighting without nen wasn’t the best idea… he’s huge.

And you’re not.

He was stronger, you’d have to be faster.

“Ready?”

“I thought you’d never ask” his words are quiet but lord do they echo around the room.

He surges forward, faster than you’re prepared for, barely avoiding the first of many attacks.

You learn quickly, you’re grateful for that. Now is when you need it most.

He attacks again and again, sometimes he makes contact, but mostly you’re able to evade him, and each time you’re putting more and more distance between the two of you.

You’re analyzing the way he moves, learning his strength, speed, and fighting patterns.

This would come in handy down the road.

He makes contact again, a fist to your jaw shocking you out of your thoughts.

Damn.

The impact forces the two of you to slide backwards to opposite ends of the room.

“I suggest you take this seriously”.

“I would if this was actually challenging.” you spit back at him.

Immediately regretting your words.

oh f U C K.

Something in the way he’s looking at you changes.

You sprint at each other again, and this time he has your full attention.

Finally meeting in the middle, you jump, your knee making contact with his ribs.

aaaaaand he throws you face down into the mat. With one hand.

Lame.

Still, provoking him was just so much fun.

You grin, rolling onto your back to face him standing over you.

Apparently you have a death wish.

“I really thought this would be difficult. Relying on your aura all the time must’ve made you slow.”

Oh yeah. That one really did it.

His face darkens in reply, he slams a foot down into your ribs.

You hear something crack, pain rips through your chest.

Yup. He’d broken a rib. Or two.

WORTH IT.

A hand shoots down to your throat, lifting you by your neck to hold you eye level to him, your feet dangling off the ground.

Clawing at his hands, you fight for air.

Still worth it.

His gold eyes hold yours trapped in their gaze, perfect lips curling up at the edges.

“Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you.” he sneers before dropping you to the ground.

Pushing yourself to your hands and knees, you face the mat under you.

And puke blood.

Niiiiiice.

Still. Fuck 12 and your ribs.

Adrenaline surges through your body, numbing the pain, and you’re ready to fight again.

You charge towards each other, readying for his next move.

And he completely changes his fighting pattern.

And you’re getting the shit kicked out of you.

again.

And you’re on the floor.

again.

And he's sneering down at you.

Fine.

You jump up, ducking under his arm, darting behind him.

Hes fast, but you're faster.

Evading his strikes again, your fist finally makes contact with his cheek.

with the hardest punch you’ve thrown in your DAMN LIFE.

You’re knocked on your back by the force of your own attack. Turning your head to the side, you grin. Old god is laying on the ground, blood leaking from his lips, panting.

You turn your gaze back to the gray concrete ceiling.

“Finally, that’s much better..”

His affirmative words give you a bit of peace, you close your eyes for just a moment, trying to center yourself again.

After a few deep breaths, you open your eyes to see Hisoka standing over you.

Motherfcker you hadn’t even heard him sneak up on you.

A suppressed scream turns into a cough, with more blood.

Sick.

“If you move, Ill break another rib. I suggest you reconsider your plan..”

You tense as he kneels between your legs.

“Every time you don’t beat me, you get another of these.” Taking out one of his fucking playing cards to hold it between two fingers in front of you. You reach out to take it before he yanks it away from you.

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant” He eyes your body with a slight grin.

Yep you figured as much.

Abruptly, he stands up and walks away towards the door.

“Were done for the day. Shall we get dinner?” He calls back over his shoulder.

Dinner? You’d lost track of time and you have no fucking clue what time it was or how long you’d been there.

“Fine, but you’re buying”.

He nods in response.

Jumping up, you scurry towards the door to follow him out.

The windows outside show nothing but blackness, it was night again. HOW fucking long had you been there? The moment you passed through the training room doors, the tiredness hits you like a god damn train.

You feel sluggish, knees weak, arms are heavy, there's vomit on your sweater already.

Moms spaghetti.

But weakness was not your best look, so you follow him into the elevator. He might be able to see your weakened aura, but he didn’t show it.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in your favorite restaurant eating sushi.

Across from tall big pink man.

Who looks so incredibly out of his element.

Normally you’d be in and out of the sushi joint as fast as possible, one 200th floor fighter isn’t the MOST intimidating, but two? Thats a different situation altogether. No one would say shit to you like this. Especially now that you’re sitting in front of a well known psychopath.

And its not exactly like he blends in well. What a strange fucking sight to behold this must be. You giggle at the thought, and he glances at you sharply.

“Oh relax, we’re fine here.”

Still. He looks uncomfortable. This brings you slight joy.

Finishing your dinner, you observe pink scary man who seems to be trying to disappear into his chair.

Rolling your eyes, you push back from the table. “Lets get out of here.”

Hisoka hasn’t said a single word since you’d gotten here.

Big fucking baby.

He nods, standing to follow you to the elevator. Once safely inside, he looks down at you. His face darkens.

“We’re being followed.”

You freeze.

“By who?”

“The old friend. Conceal your aura now.” The change in his tone is scaring you.

Not a fucking person in the world could put Old God on edge. But here he was, concealing his presence. Speaking with a voice laced with concern.

Not fear though, he doesn’t have the capacity for an emotion like fear.

But you’re fucking terrified. If this is the same person who seriously injured Hisoka the night you met him, imagine what they could do to you…

Finally to your floor, you decide every man for themselves. You have a broken rib, its not like you’d be any help right?

You disappear from the lobby, materializing back inside your room.

You’re safe here, whoever the person was, they’re probably looking for Hisoka and not you. As long as you stay away from Hisoka, you should be safe right?

Collapsing onto your bed, you worry. You’d be the one to kill Hisoka, not this “friend”. You’d thought that he could take care of himself and take care of shit on his own right?

Right?

Yeah…

That went super well for him last time.

Motherfucker.

You materialize in his room, he sitting cross legged on the floor facing the door.

“Waiting for someone?”

“Leave. Now.” You’d never heard him speak to you with such malice before.

Plus, it was sort of hard to hear him over the wind in the room. His window hadn’t been fixed yet, the floor still littered with shards of glass.

“Make me.”

He ignores your taunt.

If shit was going down, you want it to be on your terms. Also near your weapons. You’d never tried this before, and chances are that things could go horribly fucking wrong. Best case scenario, it works. Let's hope for best case scenario right?

“Lets go.”

Before he has time to react, you grab his hand sucking him into the darkness with you.

Materializing inside your own room across the hall, still feeling his hand in yours.

Praying to gods that you hadn’t just taken his arm off and left him, you look down at the hand. Old God was still attached to it.

N i c e.

“This isn’t your fight” he hisses at you.

He was actually sort of pissed at you for once. Still, this is the one time you weren’t actually in danger. He had much higher priorities at the moment.

You slide down to sit next to him on the floor, adrenaline numbing the pain of your broken rib.

Side by side, you wait in silence for whatever comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS. I was going through some shit but im back now.  
> MISSED U ALL.  
> Also next chapter is going to be LIT.  
> We have both fuckening & fightening.  
> Things are about to get darker and grosser.
> 
> If u hate this chapter srry im doing my best.


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